How I Spent My Summer Vacation
by Claudi007
Summary: Elladan's Summer in Rivendell. Legolas shows up, Glorfindel and Erestor get all weird, and zaniness ensues. Now complete. Followed by "Home for the Holidays".
1. Default Chapter

  


May 3rd 

Arrived home on the 9-40 flight from the Grey Havens, which is the one I always take when coming back to Rivendell after time away at school. Usually, dad and Elrohir and Arwen are standing at the gate to meet me, but this time, to my considerable alarm, there was no-one. I checked my watch; the plane was fifteen minutes early (a first!). I had time to sit in the airport pie shop and drink vile coffee (might have been tea- I couldn't tell) while guarding my 119 pounds (exactly) of luggage and waiting for a ride. I thought over my situation while I waited. 

I have just finished my 15th year at Grey Havens University (GHU), making the Dean's honours list, of course. Originally, I had wanted to major in PE with an orc-killing specialty, but dad pointed out that with any luck Sauron's forces of evil will be eradicated soon, and my degree would be worthless. Therefore I switched to political studies, and am now just doing the orc-killing things as an extra-curricular. I made first string of the GHU team! I was almost named MVP, too, but lost to Galdor by two crappy votes. It's all a big popularity contest, I think. 

Arwen finally came round to give me a lift home, half an hour late. She was driving a strange SUV. When I asked about it, she said Aragorn got her a great deal from someone who knew someone in Rohan. It all sounds very suspicious to me. 

May 4th 

I wanted to go fishing with Elrohir today, but apparently he has buggered off to Lake Town to stay with cousin Calion. Who, I might point out, is not *really* our cousin. Elrohir just calls him that. I asked Arwen if she wanted to go fishing, but she was going for a picnic with Aragorn. So I sat on the veranda and drank paralysers all day. Alone. 

May 11th 

Nothing has happened all week. 

Actually, Aragorn fell into the fish pond yesterday, but that's about it. Dad suggested I get a summer job. HA! No way! 

May 16th 

I got a job. I now work for dad's office. My duties include: filing documents, answering the telephone, opening mail, and typing memos. Nothing too exciting happened at work today, but I did get to type the following memo: 

-----   
To: All staff   
From: Glorfindel   
Re: Postage meter 

It has recently come to my attention that employees   
have been using the postage meter to stamp their   
personal letters. Please be advised that this postage   
is not free, nor is it for frivolous use. If   
emergency postage is required, rates for the meter are   
as follows:   
3 silver pennies within Rivendell and   
immediate area   
4 silver pennies to Grey Havens, Isengard,   
and enclosed area   
6 silver pennies to Rohan & south, east of   
Misty Mountains   
Future abuse of postage meter will result in   
indiscriminate disciplinary action.   
----- 

I distributed copies of the memo to everyone in the office. Later, I saw Erestor using the postage meter to stamp his magazine renewal notices. Obviously he did not read the memo. I left another copy on his desk. 

May 21st 

There was a new memo at work today. This one read: 

-----   
To: All staff   
From: Glorfindel   
Re: Postage meter (again) 

Despite Thursday's memo on this same subject, abuse of   
the office postage meter is still at an unacceptable   
all-time high. Borrowing six silver pennies from the pop fund   
DOES NOT CONSTITUTE PAYMENT FOR AN   
EMERGENCY STAMP! As of today, pop fund IOUs will no   
longer be accepted. Please have exact payment ready at time of   
stamp purchase.   
----- 

After I typed the memo, Glorfindel told me he was thinking of putting a pass code on the postage meter. He's getting a bit psycho about it, if you ask me. 

May 23rd 

I was awakened this morning at exactly 6-29 by a woodpecker outside my bedroom window. I threw a handful of ReptaBark at it from the snake habitat, but to no avail. So I decided to go to work early as sleeping was no longer an option. 

Strangely enough, when I arrived at my desk, Glorfindel was standing at the postage meter putting stamps on what looked like cable bills and Val-U-Save mail-in rebate coupons from Wholesale Depot. When he saw me, he muttered something about "official government business" and hurried back to his office. 

After lunch, I typed another memo. 

-----   
To: All staff   
From: Glorfindel   
Re: Postage meter 

There will be no further memos on this subject.   
----- 

May 29th 

I had the following email from Elrohir today. 

-----   
From: "the best" hotone_moreo@ardamail.com>   
Subject: miss ya lots 

DUDE! sorry i wans't aroud when you got home but you   
know how it goes... got a sweet job workign for cal,   
he owns this restarant her that sell sauthentic   
noldorin type food... real dive hole but pays good adn   
free grub, get to live in the room upstairs. youg   
doing antything good, let me know! 

see ya round like a record- ELZ 

ps, you seen my sin with sebastain cd, thought ipakced   
it but guess not....   
----- 

It was nice to hear from him, so I suppose I can forgive his horrid spelling and appalling lack of respect for grammar conventions. I sent a reply and told him all about the postage meter irregularities at work. 

June 1st 

I found one new email today. At first I got a bit excited thinking it might be Elrohir again, but that soon turned to dread when I saw the message. 

-----   
From: "*Legolas*" legolas3000@royals.mk>   
Subject: HI!!! :) 

Elladan!!! Got a message from Elrohir the other day   
and he gave me your email addy! How are you?! I   
haven't talked to you in sooooo long! Mirkwood is   
soooo boring... I was at this club yesterday and they   
played the *exact same songs* that they played last   
week! How dumb is that?!   
----- 

And the message just went on like that. For 15 Kb. In the end, I managed to discern (between endless exclamation points) that he wants to come here for a few weeks to visit. After the initial horror wore off I manage to type a quick reply explaining exactly why that wasn't such a good idea. Namely, we are out of Elf Food. With any luck he'll be dumb enough to fall for that- last time he was here Elrohir somehow convinced him that Elves in Rivendell have to eat Elf Food, from a sack like dog food, but made from dried vegetables. He insisted on seeing for himself, and by some brilliant stroke of luck, at that exact time both Erestor and Glorfindel happened to be sitting in the dinner nook eating banana Chippos out of a paper bag. For the next eight days we had him eating nothing but raisins and crumbed stale aubergine cakes. 

June 2nd 

I received a reply from Legolas today. Can't he take a bloody hint?! 

-----   
From: "*Legolas*" legolas3000@royals.mk>   
Subject: Re: Sorry 

Hi Elladan! Sorry it's a bad time for you! But your   
dad said it would be okay, and I have my ticket   
already and the flight's on the 11th at 4-15 pm! I   
hope you'll at least have some free time to go out and   
stuff! You can't work *all* the time! LOL!!! :) And   
I'm bringing my own food! 

C U soon!   
*Legolas* 

>"Elladan" elladan@rivendellonline.gov> wrote:   
>   
> Legolas-   
> It was nice to hear from you, but unfortunately   
> now isn't the best time to visit. I'm terribly   
> busy at work, as is everyone else around here.   
> We just don't have the time necessary to devote   
> to you. Also, we are out of Elf Food. Erestor   
> and Glorfindel have struck out for the Grey   
> Havens.   
>   
> Sorry about this; I will let you know when a   
> better time for you to come would be.   
>   
> Elladan   
----- 

So he went behind my back and arranged things with dad! What a little rat! And he's coming in nine days! I'm going to have to get out of here before then! Either that or kill myself! 

And I'm going to have to stop reading his emails. Exclamation marks have started working their way into my everyday communications. 

I spent all day worrying about Legolas. Last time he was here he borrowed my clothes without asking, left candles burning precariously on the tub tiles, and woke me up at dawn to ask if I wanted to go shopping. And he knows all the lyrics to every Vengaboys song ever recorded. And he sings them, oh yes, he sings them. 

I played Mortal Kombat II for a while, but that only made me angrier. So I sat on the sofa and drank paralysers. When I tried to get up I couldn't; my legs wouldn't work. So I fell asleep. I woke up sometime later to find Glorfindel asking me where Elrohir usually keeps the ReptaBark; he wanted some for his rosemary garden. I got up to show him, but the damn tricky vodka was still being a hazard to my equilibrium and I tripped, knocking Glorfindel onto the coffee table and the remaining bit of my drink onto Glorfindel. It made a stain on his khakis. Now I'm sure to be perpetually on his bad side. He's been a bit cool since the postage meter incident at work, and this certainly won't help any. 

June 11th 

Legolas has been here only five hours and already has caused more trouble than a litter of overcaffeinated goblins. Within forty minutes of his arrival he'd broken a jam jar on the kitchen tiles, and within two hours he'd almost lit the stair runner on fire. Then just an hour ago, when we were sitting on the terrace watching the stars, he dripped over the fairy light cord and bumped into Erestor, causing him to fall headfirst into the concrete railing and get his hand stuck between two pillars. 

Now he's standing on the driveway shooting arrows straight up into the air. Which, if you ask me, might not be the smartest thing to do. 

LATER: Legolas has just left my room, after informing me that I am not, under any circumstances, to disclose any information pertaining to the condition of the hood of Arwen's new SUV. 

June 12th 

I was in the middle of breakfast (oatmeal with berries, orange juice) when I heard the distinctly moronic beat of dance music start up in the West Plaza. I ran out to investigate just in time to see Legolas, wearing only rollerblades, wrist guards, and perilously short denims, take off over a ramp, spin in the air, and land on one foot. And dad was sitting next to Arwen's portable CD-radio, watching. He claims to be interested in "the sport of rollerblading". Truthfully, though, I am fairly certain he is more interested in Legolas' short-shorts. I note he didn't show up for work today. I am going to die of shame. 

I wrote an email to Elrohir: 

-----   
To: "The Best" hotone_moreo@ardamail.com>   
Subject: You're lucky to be in Lake Town 

Elrohir- 

I know you were only trying to be helpful, but please,   
in the future, do not ever give my email address to   
your friends! Legolas invited himself for a short   
visit, arrived yesterday, and has so far proved   
himself to be the biggest nuisance this side of the   
Misty Mountains. You do not even want to know what he   
did to Erestor's second-best saucepan this afternoon. 

On the plus side, though, I found your Sin With   
Sebastian CD. It was in Arwen's CD-radio this   
morning. Dad claims he put it there. I asked him   
where he found it, and he mumbled something   
unintelligible about the back seat of his car- wasn't   
sure what that was all about. You should ask him. 

Elladan   
----- 

June 14th 

Arwen has broken up with Aragorn again. She blames him for the damage to her SUV. I was about to tell her about Legolas and the arrows, but she told me to "F#*%-off". Maybe it's a good thing she's no longer with Aragorn. She's had a remarkably foul moth these past few years. Those rangers are a terrible influence. 

I asked Aragorn if he was upset, but he just shrugged. Then he told me he was going to a "wicked party" on Amon Sul tonight, and asked if I had any pipeweed. I said, "no." 

June 16th 

I went looking for Legolas this morning in purpose to question him about the peculiar burnt spot on the grass outside my bedroom window. The poncy wanker was wearing his short-shorts again, squatting next to the flower pond and using a minnow net to skim out the locusts (which he then dumped into the fish pond). I didn't bother to ask why he was doing this; I just backed away slowly. He was humming the Scooby Doo theme song. 

Then just an hour ago dad came over to my room moaning about how he'd been in his bare feet walking about the grounds when he trod on a pile of locusts mysteriously congregating on the tiles alongside the fish pond. I told him to take the matter up with Legolas, who was at fault, and whose room is down the corridor. He got a funny look on his face and said he would. I haven't seen him since. 

In hindsight, I probably should've kept my mouth shut. 

June 21st 

Arwen and Aragorn are back together. He brought her a new SUV, white with chrome bits, from Rohan. The licence plate frame says, "Eödor's Automall, 3 Leagues South of Edoras on Highway 16". I'm fairly certain it's stolen; Aragorn hasn't been to Edoras in years. 

I haven't seen Legolas all week. I also haven't seen dad all week. My mind reels at the possibilites. 

June 23rd 

Dad came home today, with Legolas. His story is that they won a golfing holiday from a radio trivia show and spent the week in Hollin. I noted that they had no golf clubs. He said they rented. I asked what his best score was. He mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "sixty-nine". I asked if that was for nine holes or eighteen. He looked flustered and didn't answer. I asked why he hadn't said anything about this holiday earlier. He said he left a note for me under the King Turgon coronation tea creamer. 

Honestly, I don't know what to think. I might have a talk with Legolas later, after he gets off the phone with his mum. 

LATER: Legolas has just left my room. I tried to have a discussion with him regarding the scandalous "golfing" holiday, but he talked nonstop about his favourite music videos for a good forty minutes so that I completely forgot what I wanted to say. Then he mentioned he was thinking of doing political studies at GHU next semester. I asked him why he didn't just go to Mirkwood Community College, and he told me that only losers go there. It was all I could do to keep from pointing out the obvious. Then I lied and said I was transferring to the University of Rivendell. He said he was thinking of applying to U of R too. I said he should definitely look into that. Let Elrohir deal with him all semester! 

3 am: Can't sleep. Everyone singing. And not normal songs, oh no. That would be acceptable. They are, in fact, singing insipid songs recalled (often poorly) from childhood. Erestor's distinctive wailing can be heard clearly above all the rest, belting out the words to "Robin in the Rain", despite the fact that everyone else seems to be singing some song about pumpkins. WHY?! WHY?! WHY?! I HAVE TO WORK AT 9 TOMORROW! SO DO THEY!!! 

4 am: Still singing. I am fairly certain they are making up the words as they go along. Legolas has joined them, making up a song about eggs. His adjectival vocabulary seems to be limited to the word "nice", though "yummy" has come up twice as well. 

June 24th 

I half expected everyone to be grouchy at the office today, but strangely enough I saw nothing but bright eyes and dopey grins. Even on Glorfindel, who is usually about as jolly as a badger. It all makes me very suspicious of something, though I'm not sure what. 

Around 10-30 Glorfindel came by to say that Erestor wanted to see me in his office. I tried to explain that I needed to stay up front to answer the telephones, but Glorfindel said that he would handleany messages, and that he was expecting an important call anyhow. So I was sent to see Erestor. 

His office wasn't hard to find; it says "ERESTOR'S OFFICE" in big letters on the door. I stepped inside to be greeted by an armada of stick-on labels, printed from the laser printer in full 24-bit colour. On top of "Erestor's shelf" sat "Erestor's out basket" and "Erestor's appointment book". Across from that was "Erestor's desk", which held "Erestor's stapler", "Erestor's scissors", "Erestor's calendar" and "Erestor's pen cup", among other things. 

I sat down in what I assumed to be "Erestor's guest chair", though I didn't see a label on it (it could have very well been under the seat- I was afraid to look). Then I found myself face to face with Erestor himself. I was a bit surprised that he didn't have a nametag. He was, however, holding a coffee mug that had his name written in cheesy geometric lettering. 

Erestor offered me a cup of coffee from his own private little coffee pot, which of course was labelled. I declined. He then proceeded to ramble on about how I'd been working here for over a month now, and how he was pleased with my efforts and abilities as an employee. Then he asked if I had any questions or concerns regarding the workplace. 

I told him about my squeaky desk chair wheel and the fact that my computer's keyboard has given me serious electrical shocks five times in the past two weeks. He nodded and said, "Uh-huh" after every few words. It got a bit unnerving. Eventually I couldn't take it any more and just stopped talking. He stopped nodding, but kept staring at me with his frighteningly blue eyes. I never noticed this before, but I think he wears coloured contacts. 

When the situation reached ultimate creepiness, I knew it was time to leave. I quickly excused myself to go back to my desk, and nearly crashed into "Erestor's coat tree" in my haste to leave. Glorfindel was sitting in my squeaky chair playing Freecell and talking on the telephone. When he saw me coming, he said, "I'll see you later, babe," and hung up, then went back to his office without a word. 

At noon Erestor came by and asked me if I wanted to go out with him. I said no, I'd brought a lunch from home today. He looked oddly disappointed. 

I came home after work and checked my email; no news from Elrohir. I'm getting a bit worried. He quite possibly could have drowned in the lake long ago. He's not too good at swimming, especially when he's drunk (which is most of the time). 

1-30 am: I just realised that Erestor didn't ask me if I wanted to go out *for lunch* today. And that Glorfindel used the word "babe" over the telephone. I am suddenly strangely worried. Who was Glorfindel talking to? And why do I care so much? And why was Erestor talking to *me*? Does Erestor like me?! Did he mistake my clumsy nervousness in his office today for the signs of a childish crush? And worse, do I like Glorfindel?! It's all very confusing, not to mention ludicrous! Oh no... 


	2. How I Spent My Summer Vacation 2

  


June 28th 

Things have been a bit awkward at work since Monday night's revelation. I try to avoid Erestor, but he makes that very difficult by hanging about near the fax machine (which is conveniently right beside my desk). I am fairly certain all the paper jams are caused by him purposely putting substandard copies through the feeder so that I have to go over there and bend down just to unstick it. 

Of course it was just my luck that when I was in the middle of unjamming the sixth paper of the day, Glorfindel came out from his office just in time to see me positioned in a very undignified manner. Erestor was standing perilously close. Glorfindel asked what was going on, and I said I was explaining the fax machine to Erestor. He shook his head and said, "Looks more like the fax of life," which made Erestor laugh madly. He sounded a bit like a sick hyena (I know this because I saw a documentary about hyena health on the Discovery channel the other week). 

If I didn't feel so funny about it, I would have punched Glorfindel in the groin. I was at exactly the right height to do it, too. 

June 30th 

I finally received an email from Elrohir today. However, after reading it over at least ten times, I am still completely baffled as to its meaning. 

-----   
From: "The Best" hotone_moreo@ardamail.com>   
Subject: (none) 

hello there hoodoo tis elrohir of the gereen email   
sinner wolverine the snake bear what language is   
hoodo? is it voodoo? hoodoodoodoodoodoodoo! when am   
icoming home elladan? aragorn?is legolas sitll alive./   
is l.,egolas still alive? are you guys ever coming   
here, there i go again on a mad randt. aragorn is a   
snake bear.bhoiws the eating imiss you guys do one for   
me if that s cool.......i bet your rooms till has the   
perfect smeel, maybe i'll ring you or somehow have a   
mistidrected telephone message go to your address.,   
I LOVE YOU=ELROHIR   
----- 

I showed the email to Legolas, and he told me that he'd had a message from Elrohir as well, only his message was just the word "focus" repeated 418 times (he counted). Then he suggested we play Monopoly. 

I sometimes wonder whether Legolas has any train of thought whatsoever, or just a bunch of random cars zipping around on unconnected tracks. 

July 1st 

There was no work today on account of how it's a festival of some sort celebrating something to do with one of the Valar. Nobody remembers which one any more; they just use the day as an excuse to drink and act indecently, and play bad music all night without the neighbours complaining. 

Dad was wearing an oversized novelty foam cowboy hat and carrying a can of lager in each hand. He was watching with a dumb smile as Legolas tried to hit a piñata shaped like a hotdog. Legolas was wearing a wet suit and swim fins. I think he'd been in the river again. 

A few feet away, Erestor had organised a blindfolded three-legged race. I tried to flee before he saw me and tied himself to my leg in a fit of misguided, insane passion (as he was likely to do- he had a shifty look in his eyes), but I accidentally crashed into Arwen, who was carrying a tray of devilled eggs to her volleyball team. I don't even want to talk about what happened next. 

Anyway, I'm now safely in my bedroom, after having spent the past half hour carefully removing a caramel apple from my hair. From my window, I can hear Erestor trying to organise a pickle-eating contest. Legolas sounds strangely enthusiastic. 

As far as I can tell, this festival seems to be in honour of Goofwë, the Vala of Tomfoolery. 

LATER: Sometime after the pickle-eating contest (dad won), I realised that I hadn't seen Glorfindel all night. Being concerned about his well-being, I decided to go and casually knock at the door and casually ask if I could borrow his "I'm With Ingwë" ski hat to wear down to the festivities. 

I knocked, he yelled, "Come in," so I went in. 

Glorfindel was lying on his bed wearing naught but gold satin shorts, holding a 26 of rye in one hand and a pipe in the other, and watching an obscene programme on cable. He was also on his mobile, saying, "Right, sweetness, ring me tomorrow, yeh?" Then he hung up and motioned for me to sit next to him on the tiger-print velour duvet cover. His room smelled like Aragorn's van. 

I felt a bit strange sitting there next to him, especially after he put his arm around me and offered me a swig from his mostly-empty bottle. I note he didn't offer to share his pipe. He talked nonsense at me for half an hour, spouting wisdom on the following subjects in this order: girls, boobs, chocolate sauce, expensive cars, leather upholstery, leather shoes, boobs, lingerie, girls, and perfume. 

During this time I said nothing for fear that if I opened my mouth it would do something totally against my better judgement that would surely get me into trouble tomorrow. The obscene programme wasn't helping any. Then at exactly 11-24 he went a bit googley-eyed and passed out across my chest, spilling the remainder of his drink on my trousers (payback for the paralyser, I suppose). I carefully put his pipe onto the bedside table atop a pile of indecent magazines so that it wouldn't set the duvet on fire. 

I stayed and watched the telly for a while, just to make sure Glorfindel didn't choke on his tongue and die or anything, of course. Before I left, I casually checked the numbers on his mobile. The last caller was someone named "Candir", at 10-38 pm, so Glorfindel was probably talking to this Candir when I knocked. But the only Candir I can think of is the fellow who owns the waffle shop across the river, and he's married with two daughters. Surely Glorfindel wouldn't go for him?! 

July 2nd 

Glorfindel said nothing about last night at work today. I said nothing as well. The day passed in awkward silence. Either he is embarrassed at his shameful behaviour, or he doesn't remember a thing. 

Most likely the latter. 

July 3rd 

There was nothing to do at the office today, so between rounds of seeing how many times my chair would spin without me touching the floor, I made the following lists: 

WHY I AM NOT ATTRACTED TO ERESTOR   
*He is older than dad and acts like it.   
*He labels everything, as if anyone wants to steal "Erestor's mousepad".   
*He has a dumb coffee mug with his name written on it.   
*He uses phrases like "thanks a million" in a sincere, white-bread way.   
*He sellotapes his socks to his legs so they don't fall down.   
*His favourite food is corn dogs, especially of the on-a-stick variety. 

WHY I MIGHT BE ATTRACTED TO GLORFINDEL 

*He is older than dad but doesn't care.   
*He has a very liberal (read: socialist) policy regarding ownership and sharing.   
*He has a clever coffee mug with "My Parents Had Sex And All I Got Was This S#!**y Life" written on it.   
*He uses phrases like "thanks a million" in an ironic, post-modern way.   
*He wears trousers long enough that you can't see his socks.   
*He has been a vegan since the start of the First Age, long before it was trendy. 

July 5th 

A strange-looking skinny blonde girl showed up at the office today, just as I was getting ready to leave for the day. She was wearing about fifty plastic bracelets, sparkley jeans, far too much black eye makeup, and a top that said "HOTTIE". At least I'm guessing that was a top. It might have been a sticker. 

She hung about in the reception area as I shut down my computer and switched off the fax and Xerox. I assumed she'd wandered in by accident and would soon leave when she realised she was in the wrong place, so I ignored her. But she didn't leave. She kept staring at the staff photo on the wall (the one that's not been replaced since the Second Age and features Gil-galad standing front and centre giving his smarmy smile to the camera). 

I tried to sound as condescending as possible when I asked if I could help her, but she didn't seem to notice. She just said, with a mouthful of purple bubblegum, "Yah, I'm here to see Glorfindel." I was about to ask the purpose of her visit when Glorfindel rounded the corner at an impressive speed and said that he'd take care of the situation and that I should go home without him. I pointed out that he was giving me a ride. He threw the keys to his Lexus at me and all but shoved me out the door. 

I drove home in a state of confusion. Why would that girl want to see Glorfindel? She's far too young to be interviewed for a job; she looks like she'd still be in highschool. And besides, Erestor and dad do all the hiring. Glorfindel's just the chief accountant. Is she a long-lost relation of his? Was she selling something? 

As I pulled into the garage, Glorfindel's mobile (which he had conveniently left on the passenger seat) rang. The number ID said "Candir", so of course I answered (in case the call was important). The fellow on the other end, presumably Candir himself, said that he was worried about his daughter who hadn't been home all day, and that he was trying all the numbers programmed into her memory dial- did I know where she was? 

I truthfully replied that I didn't know *who* she was. He said her name was Aralindë. Then he asked who I was. I lied and said he'd reached the Cineplex box office. He seemed satisfied with that, and hung up. 

Aralindë?!!! 

July 6th 

Glorfindel didn't come home until past midnight last night. He looked disturbingly chipper. I didn't bother to ask who Aralindë is. I have a dreadful fear that I already know. 

I spent the day playing video games with Legolas. I thoroughly kicked his butt at Bust-A-Move. I then told him about the suspected Aralindë and her superhero-tight sparkley jeans and not-quite-there top. He said she sounded like a skank. 

Legolas, I might point out, was wearing a pink fishnet vee-neck and black vinyl trousers. He'd written my dad's name on his arm with a jiffy marker. 

July 8th 

The skinny blonde girl was back at the office today at quarter to five, wearing knee-high platform boots, a shiny halter top that said "DIVA", and a mini skirt that looked a few sizes too small. I wordlessly pointed her in the direction of Glorfindel's office. She wordlessly smiled and pranced off as if she already knew the way. Erestor was standing behind me. We both snickered at Glorfindel's expense. 

At least I though it was Glorfindel's expense. When I got home, Legolas found a laser label stuck to my back that said "Erestor's Elladan." So Erestor could have very well been snickering at *me*. 

July 9th 

I had a funny dream about Erestor last night. Perhaps I don't find him so repulsive after all. 

July 12th 

The blonde girl has been to the office every day so far this week. Her tops have said, in order: Tuesday- "FLIRT", Wednesday- "HONEY", yesterday- "SEXY". Erestor and I have started a betting pool as to what her top will say today. My vote is with "PRINCESS". Erestor thinks "POPSTAR". 

At about 10-30 I managed to corner Glorfindel in the coffee room while he was filling up his "My Parents Had Sex..." mug. I must admit that the mug did distract me from my mission- while waiting for him to finish stirring in the sugar and whitener (he always takes forever with that) I realised that I can't imagine Glorfindel having parents. I guess I always just assumed he's the result of a genetics experiment gone horribly good. 

However I did manage to stand in his way long enough to prevent him from leaving while I tried to remember exactly why it was I'd accosted him in the first place. The whole parents thing threw off my concentration. But I did eventually manage to blurt out some semblance of an accusation regarding his little sparklejeans Lolita. After a few lame excuses he broke down and confessed all. Her name *is* Aralindë, she is 5'4" and weighs approximately 95 pounds, and they have been carrying on this ridiculous liaison since April. They met when he went to her highschool as a guest speaker to explain to her social studies class how the municipal budget system works. She is forty-eight years old. 

Forty-eight! He is nearly 147 times her age! I worked it out on the adding machine on his desk when he was gone for lunch. Dad is going to have a fit when he finds out. However, as finding out will require him to pay attention to something other than Legolas for a few minutes, this is not likely to happen. 

Aralindë showed up right on schedule, wearing a top with a picture of a butterfly on it. Nobody won the betting pool. 

July 14th 

Due to unacceptable noise coming from Glorfindel's room down the corridor, I am now sleeping on the top bunk in Legolas' room. At first I was sure that I'd never sleep, given that he talks nonstop about anything and everything, but around midnight he got up to go to the biff and never came back. Either he was murdered by a band of hired assassins, or else hijacked outside the bathroom door by dad. To preserve my sanity, I'm going to choose to believe in the assassins theory until proved otherwise. 

July 16th 

Aralindë has dumped Glorfindel!!! This came about late last night after she learned that, despite his prestigious government job, he is really not very rich and will not pay for her plane fare to Gondor for the rock festival in August. In an attempt to quickly snag an older and richer boyfriend, she is now hitchhiking to the Grey Havens to hit on Círdan. HA! Good luck! 

Glorfindel is down at the Bottom of the Barrel pub getting thoroughly wasted. I think I will go console him. By buying him a drink, I mean. 

July 17th 

I ended up consoling Glorfindel until well past midnight last night. I tried to explain that the breakup was for the best, and that Aralindë was a shallow, selfish brat, but he was beyond reason and just kept sobbing into something black and lacy that I sincerely hope was a handkerchief. Eventually I convinced him that he could drink just as well, if not more cost-effectively, at home in bed, and helped him out to his car. Along the way he sobbed that I was his best friend in the whole world. Then he swore at me and told me to quit touching his bum (it was an accident). 

He was sick twice on the way home. I had to half drag him up the steps and down the corridor to his room and then help him out of his soiled clothes (not that I minded at all- I am always willing to help out a friend in need). I tucked him nicely into bed and gave him a goodnight kiss on the forehead, but he kicked off the duvet while whining that he couldn't handle the tiger-print because it reminded him of Aralindë. He only wanted his pink blankie, the one his mum made when he was three. 

I spent the next ten minutes looking for a 7000-year-old pink blankie. I found a dirty greyish thing in one of his dresser drawers beneath a collection of ratty old clothes. It looked like it may have been pink back at the beginning of the First Age, so I tucked this around Glorfindel and he appeared to calm down considerably. Only the blankie was quite small and he had to curl up to fit under it. 

He looked very sad and lonely all scrunched up under his blankie, so I suggested that maybe he'd be better off staying with me in my room. But he said no. It was worth a try. 

I had to clean up his car this morning before I took it to work (by myself- he is in no state to get out of bed). I would have made him clean up his own mess, but he'd been drinking steadily for the past 24 hours and I didn't trust him not to try to drink the upholstery shampoo. 

Now he's flopped over in bed, still drinking. 

July 18th 

Glorfindel is still moaning on about Aralindë. Legolas is still here. Erestor is still sticking labels on me. Dad is still being lecherous. And Aragorn has been trying to be my best friend ever since Arwen left for elite volleyball camp in Lórien yesterday afternoon. However, Glorfindel did let me comb his hair before supper today (he's too lazy and drunk to do it himself), so perhaps things will be looking up soon. 

July 20th 

Glorfindel stayed in bed all day today listening to the CD Aralindë forgot in his stereo- "Without You I'm Nothing"/Placebo. When he started making up new words to the songs, I knew it was time to intervene. 

I went into his room to find him lying half-conscious atop a pile of empty bottles and other unmentionables. I drew up the curtains and he complained that the light was too bright. I dragged him into the shower and he complained that the water was too wet. I was sort of hoping he'd complain that his clothes were too covering, but no luck. 

I promised to take him somewhere nice to get real food that wasn't of the dehydrated chipped persuasion. We were about to drive off, but unfortunately Legolas was sitting on the driveway doing something with croquet wickets, effectively blocking our exit. The only I could move him was to put him in the back of the car beside Glorfindel and bring him along. 

I asked Legolas if he had any preference as to a nice place with good food, and he said, "Burger King." It took five full minutes of explaining before he sufficiently understood the concept of vegetarianism. His contribution after that was, "Burger King has veggie burgers." I would have tried to convince him that perhaps someplace else might be better, but Glorfindel was getting a bit quiet and looked ready to start sobbing over stupid Aralindë again, so I just hurried to Burger King. 

Glorfindel announced that his veggie burger tasted "funny". Legolas tried it, and assured him that it tasted almost exactly like a real hamburger. This would be why it tasted funny. Glorfindel has never eaten meat in his life, and wasn't sure what to expect. In the end, though, he decided he liked it and we had to go back for more. He has appointed Legolas to be his official food supervisor for the remainder of the summer. Tomorrow we are going to McDonald's. 

July 22nd 

Glorfindel is still moping. It has been a week now. All he does is sit in his room and drink himself silly. The Burger King intervention appears to have failed. Legolas has grown bored with his position as food supervisor and is now flopped over on the sofa in his underwear playing Zelda on his GameBoy. Dad is no help either- he's too busy watching Legolas. It looks as if I'm going to have to cure Glorfindel by myself. He was at least halfway sober when I went to talk to him, having run out of alcohol a few hours earlier and being too lazy to stumble downstairs for more. I sat on the bed next to him, grabbed him firmly by the arm, and (looking into his teary bloodshot eyes) said, "This has to stop." 

He frowned and said, "Sod off, Elladan." I'd forgotten how grumpy he is when he's not drunk. 

I tried my best to cheer him up by telling him all sorts of unattractive things about Aralindë to make him realise he's better off without her. She curses like a ranger, her favourite band is Creed, she's too skinny and suffers from plumber bum when her jeans slip down, and she colours her hair. He didn't seem to appreciate my efforts. In fact, he yelled at me for shattering his happy illusion that she's a natural blonde. Yes, a natural blonde with natural purple highlights. 

I also tried every other scheme I could think of. I offered to pay his admission to the cinema if he wanted to go see a movie. I offered to make vegan chilli if he got dressed and came down for supper. I promised to buy him all the Rev he could drink if he went to the dance club with me to look for a new cheap underage girlfriend. But he just moaned that he only wanted his Aralindë back. 

Exasperated, I yelled that if stupid Aralindë ever did come back she'd probably dump him again PDQ once she saw the lamentable state of both him and his bedroom. 

He sat straight up and said, "You're right!" as he looked around at the horrid mess of bottles and magazines and half-empty Pringles tubes. Then he ushered me out with instructions to fetch the vacuum, Bee-mop, loo brush, Mr. Clean, paper towelling, Windex, Tilex, Febreeze, Comet, and Lysol. He has been cleaning like mad for the past four hours. 

July 23rd 

Glorfindel's bedroom is now on par with a five-star hotel for cleanliness. He's even washed the walls and replaced all the burned-down candles. Glorfindel himself is also shiny and clean, having washed his hair and put on fresh clothes. Real clothes too, the non-stretchy sort with zips and buttons instead of elastic. He's even wearing lace-up shoes. 

So now he does all his drinking outside on the deck furniture while watching nature instead of inside in bed while watching cable. He's out there now. He was drinking rum and Coke, but he ran out of rum. Then he was drinking whiskey and Coke, but he ran out of Coke. 

Now he's drinking whiskey and Gatorade. 

July 24th 

Glorfindel came in to work today. I was sure he'd stay home to drink, but he was in his office at 8-30, busily going at the computer. He stayed at the computer all day, only leaving his desk for five minutes at lunchtime to microwave a Pizza Pop. He was still sitting there when it was time to leave, clicking the mouse and staring at the screen with a maniacal glazed look in his eyes. 

I asked what he was doing, and he said, "Compiling a database of therapeutic resources pertinent to my current emotional condition." I jokingly asked if that meant bookmarking porn sites in his Favourites folder on Netscape. He replied with a disturbing hollow laugh. 

I think he was. 

July 26th 

Aralindë has come crawling back to Glorfindel. Not literally crawling, but close enough- she was staggering a bit and looked dehydrated. She proceeded to throw herself upon the mercy of Glorfindel's raging libido. Lucky for her he's a sexual deviant and will accept this sort of erratic behaviour so long as he eventually gets laid. 

I was glad to be able to go to work and be rid of them. I got a ride with Erestor. He had an Iggy Pop tape in his car. He is really quite nice when I'm just talking to him and don't have to look at his freakish blue contact lenses. I can almost forgive his irritating overuse of the word "basically" in conversation. 

When I came home from work I found Glorfindel sitting at the computer playing video pinball. He cheerfully explained that Aralindë had won two tickets to the Gondor rock festival from the radio, so now the both of them are going to the show, in a hired Winnebago. He looked strangely pleased with this. I hope he realises that rock festivals can be hazardous. The only music Glorfindel listens to is abstract jazz from the Second Age, other cheap crap that he probably finds in the bargain bin at Safeway's. The CD in his car right now is a compilation of television themes to shows only old people watch. I remember this because his indicator light blinks perfectly in time with the theme from Masterpiece Theatre. 

Later, when I nearly had a head-on collision with Aralindë in the corridor, she admitted that she'd won the tickets not from the radio, but by taking off her top for a Mirkwood television crew while declaring her undying love for the newest pop sensation to come out of the forest (whoever that is). She made me promise not to tell Glorfindel. And I did promise, though this seems like something that Glorfindel should surely be told. It's times like this when I'm sorry I'm not a more dishonorable person, like Elrohir. 

However, she did not make me promise I wouldn't tell Legolas. And he's liable to blab to everyone within a five mile radius, so perhaps Glorfindel will eventually find out. 

July 28th 

I went to find Legolas this afternoon, and found him standing in the kitchen scratching himself with a fishing knife. I asked if he really considered that a wise thing to be doing, and he just stared at me blankly. 

Then I mentioned the pop-related programme featuring nudity as a means to win concert tickets. I wanted to know the specifics, but he called it a "load of sexist crap" and refused to tell me what time it was on, or even what channel. I said that I didn't realise he was such a feminist, and asked if he was opposed to the programme's objectification of women. 

He said no, he was just opposed to their refusal to video him dropping his trousers to win tickets to Shakira. 

July 29th 

Aralindë came to work with Glorfindel. They stayed in his office all morning, with the door shut. I got a ride with dad, who had managed to tear himself away from Legolas' one-man fashion show long enough to remember that he has a job to do. I think he realised he'd been away from work too long when he sat down to log onto his computer and couldn't remember the networking password. He had 129 new messages in his Outlook, most of them crummy forwarded jokes from Gildor. 

Around quarter of eleven he came down to the reception area looking for Glorfindel because he couldn't remember how to make a flowchart on Excel. I lied and said that Glorfindel was in with a client. Or at least I tried to. I was a bit flustered and accidentally omitted the word "with". Luckily I don't think dad noticed. He was too busy remembering how the Xerox worked. 

For someone who knows so much about history and lore and so forth, dad is a real dunce when it comes to technology. The best he can do is press "play" and "rewind" on the video. Adjusting the tracking or recording something from telvision, though, is a bit beyond him. 

When I checked my inbox after work, there was another email from Elrohir. A real email this time, which contained actual information, so I'm assuming he was at least half-sober when he wrote it. 

-----   
From: "The Best" hotone_moreo@ardamail.com>   
Subject: time to get out of hear 

you might not afgree with me but this is the paln...   
cal sold the restaurant to his friend mariens dad so   
were leaving lake town adn heading south... going to   
lorien first but then maybe gondor and who knows wehre   
else. cal wants to open an new restaurant that seells   
authetnic laketown food/, he thiks that would do good   
in gondor wear peoiple dont travel much. we got cheap   
flight sto caras galadhon leaving intwo days and then   
well take the bus from their, ive been making jewelery   
out of copper and turqoise and ambre and stuff to sell   
too, and cal also, we might try to sell that in   
ithilien... dont know for sure tho... ill email you   
wheni get to grammas place,. 

see ya round like a record   
ELZ   
----- 

I wrote a reply stressing how nice it was to hear from him, so perhaps he'll get the hint and write me more often. I also suggested he spellcheck his emails before he hits send. 

July 30th 

Glorfindel and his horrid girl (I cannot bring myself to write her name) have left for the rock show. Without them to spy on, what am I supposed to do to entertain myself for the next three weeks?! Legolas, who spent the day trying to fix his wind-up jumping tin chicken (it accidentally had a run-in with my foot), wanted me to go hiking in the mountains with him. Frankly, I would rather stay home and be bored. 

So I stayed home and was bored. Erestor lent me a DVD, though. He has quite an extensive collection of obscure indie films I've never heard of. 

July 31st 

I watched Erestor's DVD last night. He is suddenly much more interesting now that I know he's into hardcore S&M. 

However, I still couldn't look him in the eye when I returned the DVD this morning. I was unsure whether this was because of some sort of giddy uncertain romantic interest on my part or just because he was still wearing his scary blue contacts. 

He lent me another DVD. 

August 3rd 

I honestly thought things were going along the right track. I mean, I'm over my ridiculous obsession with Glorfindel, dad has finally come to his senses and stopped mauling Legolas in public, Elrohir is not dead, and I no longer find Erestor to be too icky. Which is a good thing, because I think we're dating now. Or at least we *were* dating. I seem to have a talent for being perpetually single. 

Everything started to go wrong just after noon today. Prior to that, I was floating though a life of blissful ignorance, completely oblivious to the fact that I was about to be thoroughly buggered by fate. Also by Erestor, but more on that later. 

I woke up at 8-30 this morning with the sun shining into my eyes. At first I was alarmed, since my bed is nowhere near a window, but then I realised I'd fallen asleep on the floor while watching one of Erestor's DVDs. There were birds chirping and squirrels chattering and only a few white clouds in the bright blue sky- the whole proverbial nine yards to make up a stereotypically perfect morning. And I didn't have any crick in my neck, despite having used a wadded-up bath towel for a pillow all night. 

I somehow decided that this would be an ideal time to return Erestor's DVD, so I went down to his room and knocked at the door. Of course he was still asleep. There was a long wait and a surprising amount of foul language before he answered. But when he did open the door, I was stunned. 

With uncombed, sticking-up hair and sleepy natural grey eyes, wearing a ratty old plaid houserobe, Erestor looked unnervingly beautiful. The light coming in all golden and glorious from the window behind him almost made him look like he was glowing. I would have fallen to my knees right then and pledged eternal adoration, but I thought I'd better give back the DVD first. So I nervously held it out in his general direction. Unfortunately I think I held it out a bit too quickly, because I accidentally jabbed him in the ribs with the hard corner. 

He scowled at me and muttered, "Thank you." Then he looked about to shut the door, so I had to think fast. 

Seeing as I've never done anything like this before, I wasn't completely sure what to do. I tried to think of what dad would do, and decided that would be too risqué. Then I tried to think of what Elrohir would do. But I didn't think quickly enough, and Erestor started to shut the door. So I did the best that I could think of and said, "Wait!" 

He opened the door again. I tried desperately again to think of something clever or at least halfway decent to say, but only managed to stand there foolishly with my mouth hanging open like a goldfish. Eventually he said, "Do you want something, Elladan?" 

I think I managed to mumble something terribly interesting like, "Erm, well, I don't know, I just... I think... uhhhhhhh..." 

He put me out of my misery by saying, "Come in, then," and walking back into the room, motioning for me to follow. I followed. 

While he put his DVD back on the shelf I tried to casually flop down to sit on the end of his bed, but my flopping was a bit off and I banged my leg on the bedpost. I had to pretend it didn't hurt for the next ten minutes while he put on a Velvet Underground record (and by "record" I do mean 33 RPM vinyl- he is the only person I know who still owns these) and made the requisite smalltalk about weather and such and offered me the requisite drink. I really didn't want any drink (I seem to have gone off alcohol due to spending so much time with Glorfindel these past few weeks), but Erestor looked surly and determined and I didn't dare refuse. 

After the talking and drinking he suavely moved on to the kissing by way of grabbing my glass away from my mouth and putting his tongue there instead. I think this was a bit rude of him, but I was in no position to complain. What I did complain about, though, was when he (after only thirty seconds!) went about trying to stick his hand in my pants. So I said that maybe this wasn't such a good idea. 

He said, "Look Elladan, you woke me up at half nine in the f@#king morning to return my bloody DVD while standing at the doorway like a moron and then coming in here for a drink and taking up my time when I should be sleeping. Now if you're not going to let me *sleep* in my bed, I damn well want to do something else in it, eh?" I couldn't argue with his flawless logic. Hand down pants action it was. 

This naturally progressed into half naked action, followed by mostly naked action, followed by completely naked. I noticed that Erestor has a piercing someplace I never would have guessed. It made for a very unique experience, though. Afterward I managed to stay in the earlier-mentioned state of blissful ignorance for a good few hours, and fell asleep leaning on his shoulder. 

At thirteen minutes after twelve he threw me out of his bed for making what he considered to be a disparaging remark about Gil-galad. How was I supposed to know he's Gil-galad's number one fan?!! Well, maybe number two, after dad. But honestly! All I said was something completely innocent about not understanding Gil-galad's strange preference for always wearing bright floral print shirts, even in staff photos. Granted I did use the phrase "worst dressed", but I hardly think that warrants being shoved naked into the corridor with clothes tossed out afterward! 

As luck would have it, dad came walking by just as I was pulling on my trousers. He gave me a strange look and asked what I was doing. I curtly said that I was getting dressed in the corridor, of course. He said I should make a better effort to get dressed in my bedroom from now on. I almost punched him. Really, Legolas changed his clothes in public places all the time, so I don't see why everyone makes such a big deal when I do! 

Supper was a hazard. Erestor kept scowling at me. I'm sure he told dad about the Gil-galad fashion sense remark, because dad was acting distant as well. More distant, at least, than was required after the corridor scene this morning. Nobody around here appreciates me! After all I do for them! I drive them to work, do their washing-up when they're too drunk, put up with far more nonsense than I ought to, remind them how to use their computers, *and even let them do unmentionable things to my heinie* and they still act as if it's not good enough! 

Therefore I have made a decision to run away from home. I will go to Lórien and meet up with Elrohir. Surely he will be glad to see me! And I'm sure he could use my help on his journey south. Those mountain orcs prey almost exclusively on drunken college students, and as Elrohir appears to have been on one long bender since May, he will need protecting. 

I told Aragorn all about the floral shirt row. He agrees with me. So at least one person is on my side! 

He is going to join me in my running away and is now, as I write, out in the garage improving his van for the drive. In truth I think he just wants to go on a road trip, but I will take his noncommittal grunts and shrugs as signs of support for my cause. 

We leave in eight hours. If all goes according to plan, I may never see Rivendell again. I am leaving a note for dad under the King Turgon coronation tea creamer, a note for Legolas on top of the Play Station, and a note for Glorfindel on his email. Erestor doesn't deserve a note. I did, however, spit on his pillow. 

Then I realised he'd probably find that erotic, so I changed his pillowcase. But I made sure the fresh pillowcase was an old bally, scratchy poly-blend one. The jerk. 

Now I have to stop writing. Staring at the dim LCD notebook screen is making my eyes water, and I need a Kleenex. 


	3. How I Spent My Summer Vacation 3

  


August 4th 

When I wrote last night that Aragorn was down improving his van for our trip, I assumed this meant that he was checking the tyres, topping up the oil, wiping the bugs from the windscreen, washing off the mud, vacuuming the seats and so forth. But apparently I was wrong. What he in fact did was remove the back seats and replace them with a manky old sofa he found abandoned in the alley behind Shop-Rite, and make a cheap spoiler out of plywood and nail it to the roof. Also, he stencilled, "OFFICIAL VAN OF SUMMER" on both sides, with red spraypaint. 

He proudly asked me what I thought. I was at a loss for words. After a few stunned seconds I managed to weakly suggest that maybe we should steal dad's Mazda and take it instead. But while the novelty of joyriding in a stolen sedan did omentarily catch Aragorn's interest, the van won out in the end. Not even better petrol mileage, air conditioning, and a CD player could change his mind. 

So he tossed my duffle bag into the back, and I reluctantly climbed into the front. I think there was something spilled across my seat; it was a bit sticky. Luckily, though, I'd worn my old jeans with paint stains. I wouldn't trust my good clothes to Aragorn's van even if he spent all week deep-cleaning the upholstery. 

We are now two hours out of Rivendell and heading south slightly above the posted speed limit. The plan is to reach Eregion tonight, camp out in a quiet ditch, and continue through the Moria Underpass tomorrow. Then we'll camp again on the other side of the mountains and get to Lothlórien early Tuesday. 

LATER: We have been listening to the same Peter Tosh tape, one Aragorn found in my dad's old tape bin, for the past five hours. I suggested we put on the Depeche Mode tape Galdor made me, but Aragorn refused. Some people have no musical taste! 

August 5th 

The toll Dwarves were strangely absent from the Moria gates when we drove up this afternoon. I was somewhat alarmed, since Dwarves never pass up on a chance to collect their outrageous tolls. Of course this meant I was forced to figure out the stupid password by myself, and it was just my luck that the inscription was in Beleriandic Tengwar, while all this time at uni I've been studying ancient Fëanorian Tengwar! It took me the better part of an hour to get the whole mess sorted out and the gate opened, during which time that goon Aragorn just slept. Just for that I'm not telling him the password. He'll be sorry if he ever has to come back here later! 

In any case, it may take far longer than anticipated to reach Lórien. Due to the absence of Dwarf guides and the fact that all the lamps have been vandalised, we have been forced to drive at an average speed of 15 miles per hour. I still think this is too fast, however, given the high number of sharp turns alongside steep drop-offs. Which is why I am now sitting in the back on the sofa; I can't handle having to watch as Aragorn almost drives the van straight off a cliff. My nerves can't take it. If we are going to die a horrible fiery plummeting death, I'd rather not know about it until the last few seconds immediately preceding the fact. 

August 6th 

We are still driving though Moria. Or, more accurately, Aragorn is still hurtling forward like a maniac and I am still sitting in the back with my hands over my eyes. In retrospect, we probably should have packed enough food to allow for this sort of delay instead of assuming we'd be in Lórien by now. We've been forced to dip into Aragorn's emergency rations- a bulk family pack of lembas he picked up from Costco. 

To pass the time, I tried plugging my notebook into Aragorn's mobile to send an email to grandma warning her of our impending arrival, but there was no reception this far under the mountain. This only made me worry more. If the van breaks down, how are we supposed to ring EAA?! 

August 7th 

We just passed a road sign that said, "BRIDGE OF KHAZAD-DÛM, 10 MILES"! So perhaps there is hope for us yet! 

These past few nights I have been dreaming only of real food instead of factory-processed lembas, and a real bed instead of having to share the sofa with Aragorn. He's starting to look at me funny, and last night he said that he'd never noticed before how much I look like Arwen. It's a bit disconcerting. And having to whizz out the back of the van because Aragorn doesn't want to stop (or even slow down) is unpleasant. I have the dreadful feeling he's watching me in the rear-view mirror. Which really gives an ironic new meaning to the phrase "rear-view mirror"... 

August 8th 

We finally arrived in Lórien late last night, making it as far as Haldir's flat on the outskirts of town. Aragorn wanted to camp in the van again, but I flatly refused. After yesterday's shameful display of sexual frustration after we crossed the bridge, I am not going near him again until he's had a good few hours alone with Arwen. He slept alone in the van. He's driving to Caras Galadhon without me, and I'm going to catch a lift with Haldir later this evening. 

So now I'm comfortably settled into Haldir's Hide-A-Bed, eating Froot Loops and watching the morning cartoons on cable. I have had two showers so far. After four days in the van, it is nice to be clean again. My hair was starting to look rather Aragornish. I don't know how he stands it. The human lifestyle is beyond my comprehension entirely. If I ever speak to dad again, I'm really going to have to thank him for choosing to be an Elf. 

LATER: Grandpa is pacing about the front room worrying over his Bywater Country Press champagne bottle. He won the bottle, along with a bookmark and a jumper, for being the one millionth person to place a bulk order to the press. That was over five years ago. He's been saving the champagne for a special occasion, and I guess having me, Elrohir, Arwen and Aragorn over for supper qualified. And it was decent champagne, too, for something out of the Shire. 

But after supper the bottle, which grandpa wanted to save because it had a special limited-edition embossed Bywater label on it, went missing. He blamed grandma, saying that she'd been jealous of the bottle ever since it arrived. Grandma retorted with, "Well, if I am jealous, it's because you spend too much time dusting that bloody bottle while I'm left alone in bed!" Then grandpa accused her of thinking of nothing but sex when there are clearly other, more important things in the world. Like valuable but dusty champagne bottles that need cleaning. 

So now grandma is spending the night in one of the spare rooms, the one next to mine. She displaced Aragorn, who now has to share with Arwen. He didn't seem to mind at all. I mind, though, because grandma is very loudly watching a cable programme that I'd rather not know she was watching. Strange noises keep seeping through the wall between us. I really hope they're all from the television. 

The more I think about it, the more I'm convinced that grandma and Glorfindel are soul mates. Perhaps if this champagne bottle row gets out of hand and grandpa separates from her, I will try to set her up with Glorfindel. The downside to this plan is that they'd probably lock themselves into a cheap motel room indefinitely and nobody would ever see them again, but at least they'd be happy. 

August 9th 

When I went to make some breakfast this morning, I found grandma sitting at the kitchen table with Arwen having a talk about sex (as if grandma would ever talk for more than five minutes on any other subject). Grandma was wearing one of her indecent nighties, one that looked less like a nightie and more like a ribbon. She was drinking a margarita. It was 8 AM. She and Glorfindel really do belong together. 

Arwen was complaining about Aragorn. She didn't at all agree with his assumption that just because the two of them were sharing a bed, he could make impositions on her sexuality. She was forced to build a wall between them down the centre of the bed, out of sofa cushions, so that Aragorn would keep his overeager hands to himself. Arwen had to save her energy for volleyball camp at 9-30, after all. 

I listened to all this while waiting for the toast to pop, then very slowly made a cup of tea so that I'd be able to hear grandma's response. It was, predictably, very much in Aragorn's favour. 

Arwen rolled her eyes and said, with a dramatic sigh, "Never *mind*." Then she went off to the laundry room, where grandpa was busy fishing a dead mouse out of the dryer vent, to ask his advice. I suspect it will be very much in Arwen's favour. Which is all Arwen wants, anyhow. 

I spent the afternoon sitting on the terrace with Elrohir eating nachos and talking about what we've been doing all summer. I told him everything except the personal bits involving Erestor, and he talked a lot about his hair (in particular, that he's thinking of colouring it blonde). Though I did manage to get a few pieces of actual information, the most significant of which was that Calion had already moved on to Minas Tirith to set up his Lake Town restaurant. 

I asked Elrohir what kind of food people in Lake Town eat. He said, "Mostly stuff they find in the lake, like, fish and clams and weeds and that, but they also really like pretzels." 

Then he went on to say that he didn't really want to go to Gondor any more, and that he was thinking of staying in Lothlórien until school starts again. He seems to have failed his Quenya 301 class, and needs grandma's help to study up for next semester. I asked how he possibly could have failed when he has Glorfindel, whose first language is Quenya, at home to help him. He shrugged and said that the class was at 8-30 in the morning and he skipped most of the time, and slept through the final. 

I suggested that he transfer to GHU, where nothing ever starts until after 11 due to the naturally lazy Telerin lifestyle. He said he'd been thinking about that, but decided against it because he couldn't be arsed to pack up and move all his stuff all the way to the Grey Havens. So he is too lazy even to do something that would facilitate his laziness! 

August 10th 

Grandpa has confided to me that he is thinking of buying a new car. Actually, it wasn't so much "confided" as "explained in great detail". He has pamphlets from about fifty different dealerships. I asked him which one he was looking at. He looked a bit lost and said, "Well, the Acura brochure is twelve pages long, so there's probably something good in there." Then he asked me if I had any recommendations. I said that, having been in Erestor's Ford, Glorfindel's Lexus, dad's Mazda, Arwen's Nissan, and Aragorn's GM, I'd have to recommend the Lexus, then the Mazda. Grandpa nodded thoughtfully. Then he picked up the Acura pamphlet again. 

Grandma was absolutely against the new car idea. She said that if grandpa could spend an hour each day on a simple champagne bottle (which is still missing and presumed recycled), she'd never see him again if he had a new car. 

Elrohir suggested that grandpa buy something really expensive and red with only two seats and no roof. Grandpa said no, he was looking more for something mid-to high-priced and beige with four doors and all the most up-to-date safety features. Essentially just like his old car, only new. Grandma then went on one again about how if he's going to bother getting a car, he might as well get something fun. He simply opened the Acura pamphlet and pointed to a description of a "roomy back seat". She's now all for the Acura. 

August 11th 

Aragorn and Elrohir have made a deal. Aragorn has somehow come to the conclusion that Arwen would like him more if he were an Elf, and Elrohir has decided to be more active in pursuing his lifelong dream of becoming a Vanya. Therefore Elrohir is going to give Aragorn Elf lessons, and Aragorn is going to help Elrohir colour his hair blonde. They are in the bathroom right now, doing something that requires lots of running water. 

I opened the door to have a peek, and saw Elrohir with a bunch of lavender goo on his head, wearing a shower-cap, and pointing a hair dryer at Aragorn, who was sitting on the edge of the tub. Elrohir was explaining to Aragorn that as he really was 14,6% Vanyarin (he worked it out via long division on the back of grandpa's MasterCard bill), he had some sort of ancestral duty to dye his hair blonde. 

Aragorn asked if this meant everyone would have to call him Elzohir on a daily basis. Elrohir said yes, that would probably help with the Vanyarisation process. 

I left without alerting them to my presence. Then I went to watch television with grandpa, who is very predictable in his routine and never does anythingzany like this. It is nice to have someone so stable in these trying times. 

August 12th 

Elrohir's hair is bright coppery orange. And Aragorn's ears are full of sticky derma-wax and latex. The transformations having failed, they are now sitting on opposite sides of the television room, not speaking to each other. Elrohir blames Aragorn for not timing the bleach correctly. Aragorn blames Elrohir for neglecting to mention that he had, in fact, failed his Art 208 (sculpture) class along with Quenya 301, and was in no way qualified to make cheap substitute pointed ears out of theatrical makeup supplies. 

Grandma came by a while ago to talk to them and say some naff crap about how Ilúvatar made them just the way they are and they shouldn't mess with His work. Elrohir scowled and said that he didn't give a toss about Ilúvatar either way, and that as a Vanya he followed Manwë and Manwë alone. He seems to be a little confused in his theology. Then grandma went to Aragorn, but he couldn't hear what she was saying because his ears were full of gunk. 

She sensibly gave up and went shopping. I wish I'd gone with her. Much as I cringe at the thought of spending hours helping grandma pick out lacy underthings and cleverly-shaped miniature bathroom soaps, such a fate is, I think, preferable to refereeing Elrohir and Aragorn's death glares. 

August 13th 

Elrohir has broken the Second Sacred Rule of Lothlórien- do not under any circumstances disturb grandpa while he's watching the evening news(the first rule is simply "no trespassing"). He went into the television room this afternoon without thinking, and started whining on about Aragorn's shoddy beautician skills. The combination of the intrusion and Elrohir's shocking orange hair must've sent grandpa over the edge. He has locked himself in the bathroom with a tube of Dap and refuses to come out until all the tub tile edges have been recaulked. 

Grandma is very worried. She says that one of the bathroom windows doesn't fit quite right, and moths come in through the cracks when it gets dark out. And grandpa is terrified of moths, having had a traumatic moth experience during his childhood in Doriath. Also, there are sometimes drain beetles in the tub, and grandpa is terrified of those as well after a traumatic drain beetle experience at my parents' wedding. 

This has completely crushed my belief that grandpa is a normal, mentally stable person. For all these years I have foolishly believed that he was the only reasonable relation I had, and now I learn of his evening news dependence and his fear of bugs! I must be the only sane person left in the world. Grandpa, grandma, dad, mum, Elrohir, Arwen, Aragorn, Glorfindel, Círdan, Erestor, Galdor, Gildor, and Legolas have all failed me. The only person left is Haldir. I think I will have to make a better effort at being his friend. 

LATER: I rang Haldir to see if he wanted to go to the cinema or something, but Rumil answered and said that Haldir had gone to a monster truck rally with Orophin and wasn't at home. Monster trucks! Haldir is obviously not as sane as he pretends to be. Orophin doesn't sound much better. 

There might be hope for Rumil though. He explained that he was at Haldir's watching cable, because he only has three channels at his own place. Also he was there to water the plants because Haldir always forgets, and wilting ferns are a very sorry sight indeed. He sounded a bit bored, so I asked him if he wanted to catch a movie. 

He said no, he had issues with the cinema ever since they raised their popcorn prices and refused to honour his free snack coupon, which, in his opinion, was in complete violation of the vendor/customer trust established by the issuing of said coupon in the first place. Also there is naught but crappy summer nonsense playing right now, the sort of films that Legolas and Elrohir like. But he did say that the Pengoloð classic "Fall of Gondolin" was being performed at the Centre of the Arts, and would I be interested in going to that? 

Of course I graciously accepted the invitation. The theatre! Real live theatre! Finally something worthwhile and intellectual to do around here! And accompanied by someone with whom I can have an in-depth and critical conversation, too. However, as I forgot to pack my good clothes, I'm not sure what I should wear. I did bring my semiformal black slacks, so maybe Grandpa has a decent sportcoat I can borrow. 

August 14th 

The show was excellent. Of course I'd seen it before (done by the Rivendell Amateur Theatre Company), and I've even been in it, when I was in highschool (playing the part of Ecthelion). But this time, with the wonderful sets and costumes and professional actors, it was truly magnificent. 

Rumil had managed to secure great seats, right near the front, close enough to see that Turgon's wig looked about to fall off during the death of Aredhel scene. Also close enough to feel the heat from the pyrotechnics when the Balrogs showed up. And I was quite impressed to see that Ecthelion got a real, or at least very real-looking sword. Mine was made of plastic. 

But the thing that really made the play, in my opinion, was the actor playing Maeglin, some fellow named Ardlor. Not that the rest of the cast was bad, but he was the only one who managed to say his lines as if he were speaking naturally. Which is not an easy thing to do when performing in that archaic language (I know this first-hand). He makes a very convincing raging loony. 

Ardlor agreed to come for drinks with us after the show was over. He and Rumil are good friends, apparently. We went to the all-night lounge at the Marriott, where Ardlor proceeded to inform us on every little detail that went wrong in the performance. It seems Aredhel paraphrased her dying monologue (again), Eöl ripped his breeches right before act one and had to be fixed up with duct tape, Idril had to say one of Tuor's lines because he forgot, and Eärendil (played by the director's hyperactive young nephew) nearly knocked over a styrofoam pillar backstage 

Also, the makeup people ran out of wig tape, which would explain Turgon's wig slippage. But this, in Ardlor's opinion, could have easily been avoided had the actor playing Turgon (who was a real jerk, according to inside sources) simply coloured his hair black like Eöl and Ardlor did. I commented that I hadn't even realised Ardlor's hair wasn't naturally black. He said that he was a hairdresser during the day and had done it himself (also Eöl's). 

Intrigued by this, I went on to explain the entire situation with Elrohir's bleach disaster and the orange hair- would he be able to fix it back to black? He said that shouldn't be a problem, and gave me his card. Then he said that he could also do Elrohir's hair Vanyarin blonde properly (he did Idril's), but I said no, that would get Elrohir too excited (not to mention strange-looking), so best to stick with the black and make no mention of blonde whatsoever. 

We spent the rest of the evening discussing the character of Maeglin in an in-depth and critical way. Actually, Rumil and Ardlor did most of the discussing. I mostly sat there, drinking my paralyser and nodding. Rumil claimed that the "Fall of Gondolin" was a tragedy, with the unhappy and death-filled ending brought about by character flaws (namely Maeglin's jealousy and unnatural interest in Idril). 

Ardlor, though, insisted it was melodrama, as the villain Maeglin was a victim of society and circumstance. After such an unconventional childhood in Nan Elmoth under the rule of an irrational father, he naturally grew up to be a bit unstable insofar as his views on right versus wrong. Additionally, societal taboos hindered his relationship with Idril; culture had directed her to believe that loving him would be unnatural, while he (who had grown up with no such culture) didn't see the problem there. Therefore his so-called evilness wasn't really his fault. 

Then Rumil countered with his observation that the plot is very character-driven and all conflict and ultimate destruction comes from within, as is common in tragedy, whereas melodrama more often gives an outward obstacle to overcome, either successfully or not. Ardlor nodded, and in the end they came to the agreement that the play belongs to a combination genre they have coined "tragedrama". I was going to mention something complimentary about the costumes, but felt my comment would probably be beneath their intellectual level, so I kept quiet. 

Later, Ardlor told me he wrote his Masters thesis on Maeglin's role in Gondolin's downfall. He is the best-educated hairdresser in Lórien, apparently. I think I am going to have to spend more time with the both of them for the duration of my stay at grandma and grandpa's. Their high-end conversation is far more appealing than Elrohir and Arwen's yammering about the price of vending machine softdrinks and jeans that don't fit right. 

August 15th 

I realised this morning that I've not checked my email since I left Rivendell. There were five new messages for me: one from Legolas on August 6th, three from dad on August 9th (all the same- I think he must've been having problems with the concept of the "send" button again), and one from Glorfindel yesterday, along with the usual junk about wireless video cameras and naturally increasing my bust size. And fifteen messages from the White Council list that I deleted without reading because they were all from Gildor and probably inane. 

-----   
From: "*Legolas* legolas3000@royals.mk>   
Subject: Guess what!!! 

Elladan! Guess where I am! After you left your dad   
was really worried because he still needs someone to   
ansewr the telephones at work, so he hired me! So now   
it's lunchtime and I'm at your desk... did you know   
your chair squeaks??? But work is fun, today we had   
cake to welcome me as an employyee! Lindir got some   
on his shirt and nobody told him, it was funneeee!!! 

Email me soon!   
*Legolas* 

ps- I accidentally saved over your desktop image with   
a kewl pic of a dog wearing underwear, hope you don't   
mind! LOL! :)   
-----   
-----   
From: "Elrond" elrond@rivendellonline.gov>   
Subject: Talk 

Elladan-   
I must admit I'm more than a little disappointed with   
your decision to leave suddenly with no explanation   
or even a goodbye. I am sure you have your reasons,   
but really, I can't think of anything that would be   
sufficient to make you take off like that. It seems   
very uncharacteristic of you. In truth, I've noticed   
you acting a bit strangely all summer. Is this in any   
way a response to Legolas' visit? I am aware that the   
two of you aren't the best of friends, but I would   
hope that at your age you would be able to look beyond   
that. 

Regarding your leaving, though; does this have   
anything to do with your disagreement with Erestor the   
other day? While I was a bit taken aback by your   
unwarranted animosity and harsh comments regarding   
Gil-galad, I can't see how this would make it   
necessary for you to leave the city. I don't want to   
go into any more detail right now, but please, when   
you receive this message, give me a ring and maybe   
we'll be able to talk it through. 

Love, dad 

PS) Legolas has taken over your position at work.   
Leaving like this without giving Erestor notice was   
very unprofessional of you.   
-----   
-----   
To: "Aragorn" strider@ardamail.com>,"Arwen" evenstarchick@starmail.net>,"Celeborn" celeborn@cgpolitik.lor>,"Círdan" cirdan@seaway.ghu.edu>,"Elladan" elladan@rivendellonline.gov>,"Elrond" elrond@rivendellonline.gov>,"Erestor" erestor@rivendellonline.gov>,"Foxilady" naughtycheeky@ardamail.com>,"Gandalf" gandalfgrey@istari.org>,"Lindir" ldr5050@eriador.com>,"The Best" hotone_moreo@ardamail.com>,   
"Thranduil" thranduil@royals.mk>   
From: "LL" glorafin@ardamail.com>   
Subject: Vacation update 

Aiya ilya... 

Sitting in an internet cafe in Minas Tirith right now,   
looking up at the mountains. Nice place but smoky-   
full of Men with pipes. Fellow at the next terminal   
over is looking up Hobbit porn. Tea is good though,   
so can't complain... 

Got tired of sleeping in the camper, so now have an   
ace hotel room near the Tower of Ecthelion, with   
shuttle service to major shopping centres. Ara took   
my Visa card to the Northstar Mall; haven't seen her   
since noon. Only a few small coins left in my   
pocket... hope that gets me back to the hotel. 

If you want me to bring you a souvenir, get orders in   
now. However, I'm opposed to being seen purchasing   
cheesy crap, so requests may go unfilled. Still   
sending postcards to everyone. 

Rock show was good... very loud though. Ara tried to   
crowd-surf but was dropped into the mud and crushed   
against the stage barrier by mad fans. Had to be   
rescued by bouncers, escaping with only minor injuries   
(bruised shoulder). Lost one sandal, both earrings,   
six bracelets. 

Time running down, that's all for now. Will be home   
on the 23rd or so. 

Nam,   
LL   
---- 

So Legolas has taken over my job, dad blames *me* for the tensions with Erestor, and Glorfindel's email was nothing more than a cheap round-robin! I was thoroughly disappointed, so I switched off the computer in disgust and went to the kitchen to microwave a tin of soup. 

Elrohir was sitting at the table with his orange hair all stuffed up under a ratty ski hat. He looked like a thug. Grandma was sitting with him, leaned over an old Quenya textbook, trying to explain how the plural of "Teler" is "Teleri", while the plural of "seler" is "selli". I don't think he was paying attention. 

While the soup was heating I remembered about Ardlor's card. I told Elrohir that I met someone who could fix his hair back to black, but he shrugged and said that he was getting used to the orange and that it was "almost kinda cool". I offered to pay for the dye job (if only for purely selfish reasons- having to pretend that his hair doesn't shock me every time I see him is hard work). He accepted my offer. I think he's getting a bit tired of Aragorn calling him "pumpkinhead" all the time. So I rang Ardlor and made an appointment for tomorrow morning. 

August 16th 

Elrohir's hair is black again. As per our agreement, Ardlor made no reference to his ability to create blonde hair. Elrohir did ask, but Ardlor quickly changed the subject to how he liked having his own hair black for the role of Maeglin. Which impressed Elrohir greatly- I'd forgotten that he'd been Maeglin in our highschool production. They talked about Maeglin for the next hour while the goo on Elrohir's head did its work. 

While Elrohir was under the dryer Ardlor came to tell me that since there was no performance Monday, he and Rumil were wondering if I wanted to come round for supper and watch an old tape of the Royal Lindon Opera Association performing Maglor's "Noldolantë" (starring the renowned Galwaith of Harlond as Fëanor). I gladly accepted. On Mondays Grandpa has his lawn bowling club over to play bridge and watch slides of last season's games. Last Monday he conned me into being the slide projectionist, and I'm not too keen on repeating the experience. 

August 17th 

Grandma has taken Arwen to the mall to look for a new dress to wear to her volleyball camp windup supper tomorrow night. Aragorn, who will be Arwen's escort, was supposed to go with them to find new clothes as well. Unfortunately, he and Elrohir are speaking again (mostly they just say "dude", but I am sure they know and use other words as well), so the two of them ditched shopping in favour of "Gondor Ninja III" at the ciniplex. Arwen had a grand fuss and is now considering going to the supper with Haldir instead. 

So I am left all by myself. Actually, grandpa is home, but he's busy down on the lower talan having a row with the neighbours about squishy old plums that fall down from their plum tree onto the flet on his side of the fence. I can hear him quoting some municipal bylaw about exotic tree species being prohibited in most residential zones. They are accusing him of stealing the fallen plums to use in jams and such. 

LATER: Arwen, out on the lower talan with grandma looking for decent light in which she could be photographed in her new dress, has slipped on one of the squishy plums and fallen flat on her heinie, effectively soiling the dress and spraining her wrist at the same time. Now she won't be able to play in the final game tomorrow, and is furious. Grandpa is consoling her by threatening to sue the neighbours. However, knowing grandpa's will and resolve in these situations, he will probably just settle for an apology and having the neighbour's son come round to clean up the plums. 

August 18th 

Arwen has cheered up a bit. Grandma has altered the new dress into a shorter style to eliminate the plum stains, and has fashioned a matching wrist brace from the extra fabric. Aragorn has offered to tell her team that she sprained her wrist falling off a bicycle when she swerved to avoid collision with a ruffed grouse on a late-night 20-mile fitness ride through the forest, so that she won't have to suffer the embarrassment of having her volleyball friends know she simply trod on a plum and slipped. Elrohir made her real hot chocolate (not the powdered sort from the tin), with real marshmallows. 

Now everyone keeps looking at me as if they expect me to do something to help with her recovery. I would offer to drive to Blockbuster and rent her favourite movies to watch for after the supper tonight, but I am far too busy with the video pinball on my computer to do any such thing. I'm *this* close to beating Elrohir's high score. 

August 19th 

Elrohir's previous pinball high score: 4 432 500. My new high score: 4 779 500. I rule! 

Rumil rang and told me to show up at his place for supper at 6-30. He told me I could bring a date if I want. I briefly entertained the notion of asking Arwen as a bribe to get her to forgive me for paying attention to video pinball instead if her yesterday, but dismissed this almost immediately. Arwen would surely turn the sophisticated supper conversation to volleyball and then fall asleep during the opera tape, thereby thoroughly embarrassing me in front of people whom I desperately want to impress with wit and worldliness. So I told Rumil I'd be coming alone. 

August 20th 

The supper at Rumil's was sort of a mixed experience. It started off very well, with crab cream soup and a spicy lentil dish, and conversation on the definition of art. Rumil said that art must conform to the expectations of the culture within it is created, while Ardlor argued that art in any society would be a creative means of expression so long as it is innovative and pushes the boundaries of acceptance to provoke response, whether positive or negative, from those who experience it. Then Rumil said that by Ardlor's definition, a melted crayon glued to the side of a ketchup bottle could be art, while a masterpiece of sculpture from centuries ago might not. 

At this point I managed to gather the courage to hazard a guess that, if Ardlor's definition were correct, that that definition would be retroactively applied to artworks from previous eras. That is, if the sculpture were innovative and exciting according to the ideology of the timeframe in which it was created, it would still remain art even the ideologies change with the evolution of society and culture. Ardlor nodded and looked at me approvingly. In that moment my entire existence was vindicated. However, I am still not entirely convinced that a crayon stuck to a ketchup bottle would be art. 

While Rumil did the washing up, Ardlor and I sat on the sofa and chatted alternately about art and what sort of hats people wore during the different eras of the First Age. During the conversation I got the distinct feeling (from his remarkably casual posture, probably) that he actually *lives* here and that he and Rumil are perhaps more than just friends. But I didn't ask. Then I noticed the small framed photograph on the end table next to me, of Rumil and someone in a very friendly embrace. After a moment I realised that the someone was actually Ardlor with blonde hair. I no longer felt the need to ask. 

He did, though, inquire as to my state of romantic involvement. If figured he'd probably understand the situation with Erestor, so I told him the whole horrid story. He looked sympathetic and said that Erestor must be a bit thick to have let a "little hottie" like me go. Rumil, who had finished the washing up and was now standing behind the sofa and carrying one of his cats (he has three), agreed. I told them about the blue contact lenses and said that I wasn't entirely sorry to be rid of him. Ardlor understood- he said that Aredhel in the play is an old-school goth who sometimes wears red contacts, and it's rather off-putting. 

Then Rumil put the tape on and switched off the lights, and sat down on the sofa next to Ardlor. It was all going wonderfully until, just after Fëanor is banished to Formenos, I noticed that Rumil and Ardlor were paying far more attention to each other than to the opera. I happened to glance over at them and Rumil, who was more or less sitting on Ardlor's lap, said, "You don't mind, do you?" I shook my head no, but really I *did* mind, because their giggling and kissing noises were interrupting the music! I'm sorry I didn't bring Arwen after all. Watching her sleep would have been preferable to watching them get it on. Maybe her snoring would have drowned out their sounds, too. 

When the tape was over Rumil showed me to the door. Ardlor, who somehow lost his shirt during the Kinslaying at Alqualondë, stayed on the sofa. Rumil then said that he and Ardlor were going to no-cover night at their favourite dance club tomorrow and that I should join them. Not wanting to make any solid commitment, I said I might. And I'm still not sure if I'll go or not. It may just be another opportunity to watch them molest each other. They might be more restrained in a public setting, though. I'll have to think about it. 

Anyway, I should go now- Elrohir is shouting at me to come participate in the contest he's set up. Aragorn fell asleep in the livingroom a while back, and Elrohir and Arwen, along with Haldir and Orophin who came by for lunch, are having bets as to what he's going to say first when he wakes up. Guesses so far are, "When's supper?" (Arwen), "My butt hurts" (Orophin), "Man, that was a spacey dream!" (Elrohir), and "What the... why are you all staring at me?" (Haldir). I might go with "F***-off". Aragorn's usually quite surly when he wakes up. 

LATER- Grandpa won the contest. He wandered past mumbling something about flowers, and Elrohir jokingly counted that as grandpa's guess. Then Elrohir leaned over and pinched Aragorn's nose closed until he started to squirm and eventually woke up. Aragorn looked around, said, "Whoa," looked around again, and then said, "My mouth tastes like flowers." 

Elrohir supposed that grandpa won, then, having had the closest guess. Arwen looked disappointed. Then she was sent off to inform grandpa of his winning, because grandpa is still not speaking to Elrohir. 

Sadly, this was the highlight of the day. I played pinball a while longer, but am unable to beat my high score. My pinball playing skills appear to have peaked yesterday and are now settling back into a rut of mediocrity. My best score all afternoon was a pitiful 2 159 000. Perhaps I will go to the club with Rumil tomorrow after all. I really need to do something that doesn't involve sitting at the computer for hours on end like a weirdo with no social skills. 


	4. How I Spent My Summer Vacation 4

  
  
  
August 21st 

After four consecutive hours of pinball yesterday my eyes feel a bit funny. My stomach also feels a bit funny, but that could be from the entire bag of marshmallows I accidentally ate while sitting on the sofa watching Elrohir and Aragorn play Magic cards. 

They are no longer speaking to each other again, since Elrohir killed Aragorn's Lord of Tresserhorn with a Lured Thicket Basilisk and went on to win the game the next turn with his Pygmy Allosaur. Elrohir said it was Aragorn's own stupid fault for choosing to play with the forces of evil, but Aragorn responded with a typical remark of "Elves suck!" I think he's still upset over the gooey ears fiasco. It took him and Arwen a few hours and almost an entire bottle of rubbing alcohol to get that fixed. 

I had decided to stay home tonight and eat Cheetos and watch Law & Order reruns with grandma, but when I asked Aragorn if he wanted to join us he said no, he wanted to go try to climb the radio tower. I told him that would be very dangerous, not to mention illegal. Then he said that I was one of the most boring people he knew! 

Shocked, I asked grandma if she thought I was boring, and she said no, I was a very responsible, practical, and mature adult. I was happy with this answer until she added, "Just like your grandfather." 

So it is true! Grandpa is easily the most boring person I know, and I am just like him! I must take drastic action to change this. I think I will meet Rumil at the club tonight after all. My life needs some fun and/or excitement. But I don't know what to wear. From the way Rumil described it, this seems like the place for tight black shirts and classy trousers. And I don't have any tight black shirts with me. Maybe I'll ask Arwen if she does. 

August 22nd 

The only black shirt Arwen had was sleeveless and vee-necked with little rhinestones by the shoulders. I asked grandma what she had, and her only black shirts were far worse- all lacy and see-through. Given the choice, I went with Arwen's rhinestones. 

I didn't get to the club until half twelve, but according to Rumil, whom I met almost immediately at the door, that's when all the action starts anyhow. And action it was. The smoky laser-lit dancefloor was packed with people all dancing to house remixes of pop songs and house remixes of Second Age classics and house remixes of pretty much everything that can be remixed in a house-like way. Ardlor of course was in the thick of it, gyrating indecently on a raised metal platform while waving his shirt over his head. Rumil didn't look the least bit embarrassed. Perhaps he was pretending he had no idea who Ardlor was. 

I danced with Rumil for a while, all the time feeling self-conscious in my rhinestone shirt. I was wondering if he wasn't worried about us dancing together and being mistaken for a gay couple, but as I looked around at the other dancers I realised that there were *no women in the club*. Well, none that weren't dancing with each other, in any case. So of course we were being mistaken for a gay couple! Rumil and Ardlor had conspired to bring me to a gay club! And I can't handle going to gay clubs- someone might *see* me! Nobody suspects a thing about my unorthodox preferences, and it would come as a terrible shock to the entire family to find out now. 

I mean, not that I really have those sorts of preferences or anything. It was just one time, with Erestor, and that's it. Absolutely nothing further. Well, except for what happened later after the club. But that doesn't count, because I was only doing it to prove I'm not boring. 

Anyway, I felt a bit dizzy and had to go sit at the bar for a while. Which was probably not the best idea, since a tall blond fellow in purple eyeliner and a sparkley gold halter top kept trying to buy me a Rev. Eventually Rumil came to ask me why I wasn't dancing, and I weakly managed to say that I felt a bit ill and should probably go home. Rumil nodded sympathetically, and he went to fetch Ardlor from his platform antics in order to see me out safely to grandpa's car, parked across the way in front of a Nandorin restaurant. We were just about to leave when I rounded the corner to the exit and ran smack into Elrohir. 

Elrohir (who was wearing one of grandma's lacy see-through shirts) said, "I thought you were watching Law & Order tonight!" I said, "You said you were going to Orophin's to play Dungeons and Dragons again!" Ardlor said, "Oh wow, identical twins, this is just too perfect!" Elrohir smiled coyly at him. I scowled at the floor, disgusted, or perhaps shocked or embarrassed. It was hard to tell which. The music was too loud for me to think properly. 

I announced that I was leaving, while at the same time trying to make sure Elrohir understood that it was in no way my idea to come to a gay club, and that indeed I didn't even know it was a gay club when I agreed to come. But Elrohir wasn't paying attention, and just whined that he needed me to give him a lift home, since he'd taken the bus and was afraid to take the bus back so late at night (the bus being full of raging loonies and other undesirables sitting on vandalised vinyl seats beneath glowing toothpaste ads). 

Rumil said that he too was ready to leave, and Ardlor suggested we should all go back to their place for flavoured instant coffee and sugar-free health biscuits. I was clever enough to see what he was up to, but Elrohir, being none too bright, was caught in his nefarious plan. 

I politely declined for the both of us and pulled Elrohir by his (that is, grandma's) shirt all the way out to the car. Elrohir pouted, then sulked, then whined, complained, and eventually harassed until I was forced to stop the car. I just can't drive properly when he's snapping my arm with the elastic from the PineFresh tree. I slowly explained to Elrohir what it was that Ardlor had in mind, and he said, "Well, *obviously*!". Then I said that I would have no part in it, having no interest whatsoever in those sorts of shameful degenerate activities, and he told me I was the most boring person he knew. 

Twice in one day!!! 

I just couldn't let this go by. I just couldn't. 

As a result, I don't even want to talk about what happened next, except to say that it was surely the worst thing that anyone has at all done at any point in history, ever. True, Fëanor killed a bunch of people at Alqualondë and got his group of Noldor collectively exiled from Valinor, but at least he didn't have anything going on the side with Fingolfin and some strange actor they met at a gay disco. Not that we know of, anyhow. 

Also, I think Rumil captured the whole shebang on Mini DV to treasure for years to come. He said he was just checking the camera and battery to make sure they were ready to tape Haldir's lacrosse tournament on Saturday, but the more I think about it, the more I'm sure he didn't really need to check for so long, nor so thoroughly. 

I am without a doubt going to sit in Mandos for a very very very long time. The fact that Elrohir will surely be there with me may or may not be a comfort; I'm in no state of mind to try and decide right now. 

Though maybe Fëanor will be there and I can ask him about him and Fingolfin. 

August 23rd 

Another crappy round-robin email from Glorfindel came today. It arrived right in the middle of a potentially excellent pinball game, and my IM interrupted with a popup and made me lose the ball. Stupid sodding Glorfindel. 

-----   
To: "Aragorn" strider@ardamail.com>, "Arwen" evenstarchick@starmail.net>,"Celeborn" celeborn@cgpolitik.lor>,"Círdan" cirdan@seaway.ghu.edu>,"Elladan" elladan@rivendellonline.gov>,"Elrond" elrond@rivendellonline.gov>,"Erestor" erestor@rivendellonline.gov>,"Foxilady" naughtycheeky@ardamail.com>,"Gandalf" gandalfgrey@istari.org>,"Lindir" ldr5050@eriador.com>,"The Best" hotone_moreo@ardamail.com>,"Thranduil" thranduil@royals.mk>   
From: "LL" glorafin@ardamail.com>   
Subject: Further updates on vacation 

Aiya ilya... 

Know I promised to be back home by the 23rd, but   
that's not going to happen now. Still in Minas   
Tirith, still having a blast. Bought some new shoes   
yesterday, two-tone brown leather, very chic, and a   
purple shirt. 

Nearly got run down by a wedding convoy on my way from   
the hotel to the internet cafe today. Adventure   
abounds here. About fifty people hanging out the   
windows of taxis speeding down the main thoroughfare,   
and an apple lorry with a band playing in the back.   
Singer kept tossing apples at people- fun stuff. If I   
ever get married, I want an apple lorry driving about   
with a band in the back. 

On that note, I had Ara wearing nice adult clothes and   
no plastic jewelery the other day, so hope there. 

And will someone please tell Gildor to stop sending   
crummy forwards and chain letters? Not had the chance   
to write him a proper reprimand lately- seems he's   
taking my silence as a go-ahead for all his crap. 

Will keep you all updated on my EDA and such, but   
don't expect any time soon. Might stay a few days   
extra in Rohan on the drive through. Hear they have   
cheap drinks and lots of them... 

Nam,   
LL   
---- 

I am in shock. He is actually thinking of getting *married* to Aralindë?! And he calls this *hope*?! As for adult clothes, I can't imagine what that means. I sincerely hope it doesn't mean "adult" clothes... Not that Aralindë would know any better. She wouldn't recognise good fashion sense even if it came in the post duct-taped to the back of an L.L. Bean catalogue. 

I spent the rest of the day in bed being antisocial, eating ice cream and watching wrestling on channel 38. I was sort of hoping Elrohir would come and join me so I could assure him that what happened the other night was purely accidental, but he was too busy bothering grandma and generally being in the way of things. Aragorn tried to join me, but he kept scratching himself in unmentionable places and farting on the duvet, so I had to throw him out. 

August 24th 

Grandma is no longer speaking to Elrohir. Last night he apparently lost all sense completely and asked her if she wouldn't mind cutting off her hair so that he could make a wig for his project of becoming a Vanya. I didn't witness the scene, but according to Arwen grandma went a bit psycho and started creeching that she'd had her hair just as it is since her childhood in Tirion and no way was she ever going to cut it for anyone. Elrohir made things considerably worse by saying that maybe after 7185 years it was time for a change and that she'd probably look good with a brush cut, and the hair would of course always grow back, wouldn't it? The rage took over and grandma hurled a grapefruit at him. He now has a good-sized bruise on his left cheek. I wish I'd seen all that. 

So now that Elrohir has incurred the wrath of both grandparents, we figure it's time to move on. Aragorn's down improving the van again, this time as per my instructions. I gave him a neatly typed list to follow, with the tasks ordered so as to maximise time efficiently. I don't actually expect that he'll follow it, but I do hope he'll at least remember to pick up the old used Kleenexes from the floor. 

August 25th 

We are now stopped at a campground in Fangorn National Park. By "we" I mean myself, Elrohir, Aragorn and Gildor. Gildor and his group of travelling yahoos happened to be camping two sites over. I can see their Steam Queen Vacuum van from my place beside the rusty fire box. Gildor has elected to join Elrohir and Aragorn in playing cards, as he has had no company but his fellow vacuum cleaner salespeople for the past month. The fellow salespeople, it seems, stole a paddleboat from the camp warden and are whooping it up heading down the Limlight in search of adventure. I never suspected the secret lives of travelling vacuum-cleaner salespeople could be so seamy and crime-ridden. 

In any case, at least we managed to secure a campsite with power so that I can not only save the battery on my notebook but also plug in the trouble light and be able to see the keyboard in the dark. That is I *could* plug in the trouble light if the outlet weren't occupied by an old microwave stolen from grandpa and grandma's basement. Elrohir's microwaving nachos for the card players. He doesn't seem to quite get the concept of camping being rustic. 

August 26th 

We're still at the Fangorn camp site. I'm getting a bit worried, since I just realised that uni starts up in nine days and I am by no stretch of the imagination ready to face going back to Rivendell to catch the plane to the Grey Havens. I'm also getting worried about Gildor. He stayed with us in our van last night, since his vacuum people haven't come back yet and they have the keys to his own van. Actually, it was more like he stayed with Elrohir in our van last night. I quickly tired of their inappropriate antics and took my blanket to sleep outside. I found Aragorn in a pile of leaves under the picnic table this morning, so I can only assume he did the same. 

I tried to avoid them all day, so I stole Aragorn's camera and wandered around taking pictures of the forest. While doing so, I saw a frightening pale green slug that was about seven inches long. I also saw what I though was an Ent, but it turned out to just be a tree with a giant face carved into it. I took a photo. 

Now I'm back at the campsite. Elrohir and Gildor are in the van again, up to what I'm certain is no good, listening to Elrohir's sex tape on the stereo. From what I can hear, the tape features such classics as "Shut Up And Sleep With Me", "Sex Bomb", "I Touch Myself", "If You Want My Body" and "Sex Dwarf". Elrohir keeps calling for me to come join them. And no way am I going to do that! At least not while Aragorn's around. Maybe later, if he wanders off to find a Pizza Hut and gets lost in the woods and is attacked by large pale green slugs. Or maybe if I give him a handful of money and tell him to go actively seek out a Pizza Hut. Or maybe I'll just wait until he's not paying too much attention. 

Oh screw it, I'm going to join them. 

August 27th 

We have left Fangorn National Park and are now heading south-west toward the Gap of Rohan. Elrohir's sex tape is still in the stereo. Gildor was dancing around indecently on his knees to "Sexy Boy", but is now crouched behind the sofa waiting until Aragorn says it's safe to come out. We had to take a little ferry across the Entwash, and the ferry tolltaker didn't accept Interac. Since we didn't have much cash available, Aragorn made Gildor hide so that we wouldn't have to pay for him. Elrohir offered to hide with him, but Aragorn said that wouldn't be necessary. 

I wanted to check my email, but Elrohir has appropriated Aragorn's mobile while Aragorn is busy scanning the roadside for cheap motels. He very sensibly suggested staying in a motel tonight instead of the van, and I am with him on that 100%. So now that Aragorn's distracted with motel-spotting duty, Elrohir's using the opportunity to make long-distance calls to all his friends. I asked him why he didn't use his own mobile, and he claims he ruined it by accidentally dropping it into the kiddie pool at Flamingo World Waterslide Park just east of Mirkwood in May. 

So without email, and having lost my pinball skills, I am forced to watch the scenery as we drive. And there is nothing even interesting to watch. Rohan is full of naught but used car lots. The bad suit industry must be thriving here. 

LATER: We have stopped at the Kozy Korner motel north of Helm's Deep. The sign out front claims 15% discount for Elves, and there are waterslides and satellite telly, so Gildor is going to investigate while the rest of us wait in the van. There is a plastic grocery bag stuck to his bum. He sat on a wad of Elrohir's gum two hours ago, and squished it into the sofa cushion, then put a bag over the gum on the cushion and sat back down. But the bag stuck to the gum already on his trousers. Of course nobody told him when he got out of the van, and he didn't seem to notice on his own. Oh well. 

August 28th 

We are safely situated in the motel room. Or at least I am safely situated. Aragorn has wandered off to find beer, and Elrohir and Gildor simply disappeared about an hour ago while I was in the bathroom. I tried watching television for a while, but nothing good was on. So I checked my email, and found this new message from Legolas: 

-----   
From: "*Legolas*" legolas3000@royals.mk>   
Subject: [none] 

Hi Elladan! You'll never guess what happened today!   
----- 

And that was it. I am unsure if he accidentally hit the send key prematurely, or if he's just a moron and expects me to reply with a guess. I also had this email from Elrohir: 

-----   
From: "The Best" hotone_moreo@ardamail.com>   
Subject: look 

im in the lobbiy 

ELZ   
----- 

Sure enough, when I went down to the lobby (really, more like a corner of the motel office with two vinyl chairs and a particle board table), there were Elrohir and Gildor with dumb grins on their faces, sitting at Gildor's computer. Apparently they think themselves terribly clever to send me an email from within the same building. Idiots. 

Feeling curious, and since I was standing right next to him, I asked the motel manager why he offers a 15% Elf discount. He said he just prefers Elves as guests, as they are overall less likely to steal the towels and destroy things randomly. I was about to agree with his logic when out of the corner of my eye I saw Gildor take out his pen-knife as if to carve his name or else an obscene phrase into the particle board table. 

Then I asked if the discount worked to attract customers, and he said yes, there'd been a record number of five Elves check in this week alone, those five being myself, Elrohir, Gildor, and "a classy-looking blond fellow and his foul-mouthed daughter." I narrowed my eyes at the memory of a Winnebago at the far end of the car park last night. Said classy-looking blond fellow is staying in room 12. I might have to investigate later. 

August 29th 

I am starting to panic. University starts up again in mere days, and I am stuck at a crappy motel in Rohan with three yahoos who haven't the slightest concern for schedules. I emailed Círdan for help on the situation, but have so far received no reply. 

To try to get my mind off the school troubles, I went to the pool with Elrohir (Gildor stayed in the room and moped, having yesterday cracked a rib after slipping while running on the pool tiles in direct defiance of the lifeguard's safety suggestions). Really, all I wanted to do was sit in the hot tub, but Elrohir insisted on playing waterslide tag (also in direct defiance of the lifeguard's safety suggestions). We were kicked out of the pool area within fifteen minutes. Elrohir looked strangely calm as the lifeguard told us to leave. Usually he fusses over stuff like this, so I was a bit curious as to why he was taking it so well. He smugly told me he'd peed while going down the waterslide that last time. I'm sorry I asked. 

We tried to get back to the room without going outside, since we were wearing naught but soggy swim shorts and small towels, but must've taken a wrong turn somewhere because we ended up in an uncarpeted concrete corridor that didn't look as if it were intended to be used by motel guests. We tried to go back the way we came, but found the door had locked behind us. My choice would have been to bang on the door until somebody opened it, but Elrohir wanted to continue down the corridor in case it led us to fun and adventure. I tried to point out that we were in no way dressed for adventure (fun, maybe, if said fun were of the swimming variety), but he didn't care. So we ended up going along the corridor, passing three locked doors before we came to one that opened. 

Then we stepped right into the middle of the Rohan National Dental Association annual director's meeting. Their banner was hanging above the projector screen at the far end of the room. The projector screen was being used by a large balding man giving a PowerPoint presentation. He stopped dead when he saw us, and the rest of the room turned to look too. Women stared in shock. Men muttered unkind things about Elves. Elrohir waved and cheerfully said, "Hi!" Mortified, I covered my face with my towel and prayed nobody would recognise me. Then I remembered that I look exactly like Elrohir, so my actions were useless. 

When we finally got back to the room, after wandering through the restaurant and then having to go outside anyhow, Gildor was lying on one of the beds in his underpants and watching extreme sports on satellite. Aragorn was nowhere around. I can only presume he was disturbed by Gildor's tighty-whities and disappeared to check out the VLTs in the motel pub. I would understand that completely, as I too am disturbed by said underpants. Especially now that Elrohir keeps playing with the elastic waistband. 

Nobody never plays with *my* elastic waistband. 

Obviously, I am going to have to go somewhere to sulk. I wonder if it is Glorfindel in room 12? 

August 30th 

Elrohir, Aralindë and I have been playing Cheat for the past hour and a half. I keep winning, possibly because Elrohir and Aralindë are paying more attention to trying to tickle each other than to the actual game. I predict that tomorrow, out of jealousy, Glorfindel is going to give Elrohir a swift kick in the arse. Not today, though, as it is a Vanyarin religious holiday. 

According to his religion, today is the day of somethingorother to do with judgement, and Glorfindel is not allowed to drink alcohol, have sex (and that's pretty much his entire existence right there), wear colourful clothing, plait his hair, eat cooked food, speak loudly, move quickly, perform acts of unkindness toward others, sing, dance, or have fun in any way whatsoever. Pretty much all he *can* do is sit outside on a mat and look westward while thinking about the Valar and waiting for the day to be over. 

Gildor, of course, is taking full advantage of the situation. He's outside with Glorfindel, who is indeed sitting on a mat facing westward and wearing all white clothes. Or at least clothes that are supposed to be white- they're a bit greyish-brown now, since Gildor keeps tossing handfuls of dirt at him. If I hadn't gone out there and witnessed it myself, I'd in no way believe the situation to be possible. But Glorfindel has been putting up with Gildor's idiocy, calmly and quietly saying things like, "It would please me greatly it if you would refrain from dumping lemonade over my head," and "I do not appreciate your attempts to put raisins up my nose. Please stop." 

Through the window, I can now see Gildor making an admirable effort at trying to pull the mat out from under Glorfindel. Glorfindel is responding by passively eating bean sprouts from a bowl. Gildor just upset the sprout bowl. Glorfindel is picking them out of the grass. Gildor is stepping on Glorfindel's hand. Glorfindel is using his other hand to pick up the sprouts. 

It must really suck to be religious. 

August 31st 

Gildor made a point of waking up at 6-30 this morning to get in a good day's worth of tormenting Glorfindel. He was out of our room by 7 sharp and back five minutes later, staggering a bit and holding his nose to keep too much blood from escaping. Apparently it slipped his mind that one-day religious holidays last, shockingly, only one day. 

I asked Glorfindel if he was overly bothered by Gildor yesterday, and he said not really; the point of his Vanyarin holiday is to have one's devotion tested. The deal is that Manwë judges your life over the past year, and if you've acted contrary to the Valar's decree, you will be put to trial on this one day. Glorfindel figures that Gildor was sent by Manwë to try his faith- if he would have given in and punched Gildor when it was deserved, he would have failed the trial and forfeited Manwë's blessing until the next year when he could be tried again for all cumulative sins. 

It all sounded very complicated and boring to me. Then Glorfindel admitted that he'd never before been tested so rigorously. Once back in the second age he was bombarded by squirrels throwing chestnuts, and once around the time mum left he was bitten by a marmot that refused to let go until dad sprayed it with the hose, but that's it. He attributes the torment of Gildor to his unorthodox relationship with Aralindë. 

I asked him if she was worth having to endure Gildor dropping click beetles down his shirt, and he said, "Yes." Somehow, I can't see it. I sure wouldn't endure Gildor and beetles for a whole day just to be with Aralindë. I might endure static electricity for her, but that's about it. And not very much static electricity either. Only the sort that makes my trousers stick to my legs for a bit, but then goes away once I shake it out. I can't really see her being worth much more aggravation than that. 

September 1st 

I realised this morning that none of us has actually seen Aragorn since the 28th. Gildor thought he saw him yesterday wandering aimlessly about the car park, but it turned out he'd only seen a large shaggy brown dog wearing a bandana. Curious, I went to have a walk around and see if he hadn't been accidentally killed in a brawl over the VLTs and had his body dumped into one of the wheelie bins out behind the kitchen. No sign of him (either dead or alive) there, but on my way back to the room I also realised that none of us has seen the van since the 28th either. 

Panicking, I ran all the way back to the room. I asked Elrohir if he'd seen the van anywhere, and he got a funny look on his face and said no, last he saw was Aragorn driving off to find beer. I panicked further and had a look under the beds and in all the drawers, but Aragorn's things were all gone. So we have been abandoned here! Or, more likely, I have been abandoned! Elrohir and Gildor don't seem to give a toss either way. In fact, they think it's "cool". 

Not knowing what else to do, I played a game of pinball while waiting for my internet to connect so that I could check my email. I got a new high score, too- 5.436.000- so maybe stress is the key to good pinball playing. Then once the internet was connected, I found an email reply from Círdan. 

-----   
From: "Círdan" cirdan@seaway.ghu.edu>   
Subject: Re: Schoolyear startup 

Dear Elladan,   
I wouldn't worry at all if I were you. You've already   
registered for all of your classes (if I am correct   
you've chosen phys. ed. and computer science as   
electives?), so the only thing left to do is show up.   
There have been a few changes to the program since   
last year, but nothing that won't be explained on your   
first day back, and the changes have no effect on your   
registration. 

So no worries for now, and we'll see you on Wednesday! 

Best wishes,   
Círdan   
----- 

Wednesday! University starts up in three days! And here I am, abandoned in a cheap motel in Rohan with two idiots and no car! And even if I did have a car, there's no way I could get to the Grey Havens or even back to Rivendell in time for school! I think I need to go confer with Glorfindel. His cynical surliness always helps to put things into perspective. 

LATER: I had a conference with Aralindë. She was carrying a plate of brownies when she answered the door. There was no store-bought packaging to be seen, so I must assume that Glorfindel made them. She said, "Yah, what do you want?" 

I said, "Is Glorfindel here?" which, in retrospect, was a really stupid question, since if Aralindë was there wearing a flowery blue bikini, where else would he be? 

She nodded and gestured to the bed where Glorfindel lay sleeping, wearing swim shorts and clutching his pink blankie. She said that she was waiting for him to wake up from his nap so they could go to the waterslides, but unfortunately that might be a while since they were up very late last night in the Winnebago's kitchenette trying to figure out how to make vegan brownies, and Glorfindel (being old) doesn't take late nights very well. 

Then she went on to talk about a package of hair clips she bought from a drugstore in Edoras that are, in her opinion, completely substandard. Half are already broken, so she's thinking of writing a complaint email to the company accusing them of knowingly selling a shoddy product at an outrageous price. I had to sit graciously and listen to her talk about the hairclips, smudgy eyeliner pencils, which brand of lipstick tastes best, shampoo that doesn't lather, and whether or not Glorfindel looks good in red. 

Afterward, when she had to stop and breathe, I told her all about my own troubles. Her suggestion was that I just buy my own car and drive myself. I was about to explain why this plan could never work, but the more I thought about it, the more I realised there was no other choice. Actually, there was another choice, but that was driving back home with her and Glorfindel in the Winnebago. And honestly, I'd rather stay here indefinitely. 

I went back to the room and checked my bank balance online. As far as my calculations go, I have just enough money to buy a 20-year-old Chevette. Probably a brown one with one blue door, covered in Bondo. I will have to wear a disguise while driving. Or else I'll have to see how much money Elrohir has, and maybe together we can afford something one step up. 

September 2nd 

Elrohir and I are now the proud owners of a 3001 Mercury Topaz. As per my imagination, it is beige, though the front passenger side door is blue. The rear passenger side door doesn't open. It is just for show, apparently. Elrohir has named the car "Ol' Grindey", after the peculiar noise it makes when started. He's quite taken with it, and has already stuck a sticker that says "GLAM" in the rear window, and a plastic dog with a bobbing head on the dash. There is talk of purchasing a glittery license plate frame and zebra-stripe seat covers. I have to pretend not to hear him whenever he says such things. Not always an easy thing to do, since he tends to poke me incessantly while talking. 

Now I figure that if we leave the motel immediately and drive all day and night at twice the speed limit, not stopping for food or drinks or anything except petrol, we might just make it to the Grey Havens by Thursday. From there Elrohir can catch a plane and be home in time for his first day back at the U of R on the 7th. Dad will be furious with both of us, but I don't really care. 

Now Elrohir has gone to find a convenience store that sells PineFresh car fresheners (the Topaz smells a bit like cat pee) while I pack up our things. I don't know where Gildor's gone. Not that it really matters, since we're leaving him behind. He has a credit card- he can fend for himself. When I went to say goodbye to Glorfindel, I told him to let Gildor know that we left. Glorfindel nodded and said he would, but I'm not entirely sure that he'll remember. He was standing at the Winnebago kitchenette sink washing grapes (Aralindë was helping by picking out the mushy ones) when I told him, and I'm fairly certain he was paying more attention to the grapes than to me. 

September 3rd 

I am not going back to the Grey Havens. I am not going back to university. In fact, I am not even going back to civilisation. Ever. I will spend the rest of my life roaming the wild, living in the Topaz, killing Orcs, stealing their wallets, and using the ill-gotten funds to pay for room and board at motels of ill repute that offer only three television channels, all of which show naught but Antiques Road Show and Murder She Wrote. Elrohir is coming with me. 

We are heading north, back toward Rivendell, but we're not going home. No, I don't think I'll ever be able to show my face around there ever again. From this day on, I will be forced to live on the fringes of society. 

My picture is on the front of the Eregion Enquirer, with a yellow headline containing my name and the word "GAY" in letters so big you could read them from the moon. In the photo, I am wearing Arwen's rhinestone shirt and standing outside the club in Lórien. 

Elrohir brought the paper back from the convenience store, along with a designer-scented PineFresh car tree, fourteen pieces of beef jerky, Bugs Bunny PEZ, and a pack of chocolate cigarettes. As he handed me the paper, he tried to make things better by saying that he's in the photo too. Which is true, insofar as the side of his head was indeed caught by the camera, though it is motion-blurred beyond recognition. He offered me a consolation PEZ. 

I have already emailed Galdor to let him know he'll have to find a new roommate, as I am never going to see him again. He can keep the dEUS CDs he borrowed, and the Suede poster I left on the wall. I have no use for them now. I haven't worked up the nerve to email Círdan yet, though I probably should as he's the type to worry that I'm dead in a ditch somewhere being eaten by insects when I don't show up for class tomorrow. 

Dad, who obviously doesn't believe me to be dead in a ditch, sent an email that started off calmly enough mentioning that Legolas has gone back to Mirkwood and Arwen has returned safely from volleyball camp, though soon it turned into a full reprimand over me being irresponsible and missing my plane. I would reply if I thought he would at all understand my situation, but although he has himself been on the cover of the Enquirer several times as a result of his interesting relationship with Gil-galad, it's not at all the same, since everybody knew about that already. My being photographed coming out of a gay dance club, however, will come as a complete shock to everyone, and I don't think I'll be able to deal with their onslaught of questions and concerns. 

So Elrohir will be my sole companion from this day forth. I have forgiven him for all the stupid things he's ever done to me, in particular putting a nasturtium leaf in my cucumber sandwich at the end-of-school picnic when we were sixteen and making me vomit in front of the entire class. I have also given in and confided to him the entire story of my encounter with Erestor. He looked at me expressionlessly throughout the entire confession, nodding every once in a while. He must be in shock. I know he would never think me the sort of person to do anything like that. 

But in any case, he is still here with me and the Topaz on our flight from the past, which is reassuring. And he has offered to wear an eye patch and make up false names for us to use when others are around so we're not recognised. He really is a very nice and considerate person when he remembers to be. Though I suspect that we should both be thoroughly sick of each other by the end of the month, and I will be desperate to have the company of anyone but him. 

Oh well. 

I don't suppose I have much of a choice now, do I? 


End file.
